Fallen
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: It made no sense. He was cold, mean, and . . . well, just downright rude. It was obvious he hated her. And yet she felt some sort of pull toward him that she couldn't ignore. Something that makes her curious about him, makes her want to know more and, most of all, find out what she did to make him hate her so. Will her path to truth enligten her . . or destroy her?
1. In the beginning

**Inspired by 'Fallen' written by Lauren Kate. All credit to herself and Suzanne Collins. I own nothing.**

_**"But Paradise is locked and bolted . . . We must make a journey around the world to see if a back door has perhaps been left open."**_

_**~Heinrich Von Kleist, "On the Puppet Theater."**_

**Prologue: In the Beginning**

**Helston, England**

**September 1854**

Around Midnight, her eyes at last took shape. The look in them was feline, half determined and half tentative-all trouble. Yes, they were just right, those eyes. Rising up to her fine, elegant brow, inches from the dark cascade of her hair.

He held the paper at arm's length to assess his progress. It was hard, working without her in front of him, but then, he never could sketch her presence. Since he had arrived from London-no, since he had first seen her-he'd had to be careful always to keep her at a distance.

Every day now she approached him, and every day was more difficult than the one before. It was why he was leaving in the morning-for India, for the Americas, he didn't know or care. Wherever he ended up, it would be easier than being here.

He leaned over the drawing again, sighing as he used his thumb to perfect the smudged charcoal pout of her full bottom lip. The lifeless paper, cruel imposter, was the only way to take her with him.

Then, straightening up in the leather library chair, he felt it. The brush of warmth on the back of his neck.

_Her._

Her mere proximity gave him the most peculiar sensation, like the kind of heat sent out when a log shatters to ash in a fire. He knew without turning around: She was there. He covered her likeness on the bound papers on his lap, but he could not escape her.

His eyes fell on the ivory-upholstered sette across the parlor, where only hours earlier she'd turned up unexpectedly, later than the rest of her party, in a rose silk gown, to applaud the eldest daughter of their host after a fine turn at the harpsichord. He glanced across the room, out the window to the veranda, where the day before she'd crept up on him, a fistful of wild white peonies in her hand. She still thought the pull she felt toward him was innocent, that their frequent rendezvous in the gazebo were merely . . . happy concidences. To be so naive! He would never tell her otherwise-the secret was his to bear.

He stood and turned, the sketches left behind on the leather chair. And there she was, pressed against the ruby velvet curtain in her plain white dressing gown. Her dark hair had fallen from its braid. The look on her face was the same as the one he'd sketched so many times. There was the fire, rising in her cheeks. Was she angry? Embarrassed? He longed to know, but could not allow himself to ask.

"What are you doing here?" He could hear the snarl in his voice, and regretted its sharpness, knowing she would never understand.

"I-I couldn't sleep," she stammered, moving toward the fire and his chair. "I saw the light in your room and then"-she paused, looking down at her hands-"your trunk outside the door. Are you going somewhere?"

"I was going to tell you-" he broke off. He shouldn't lie. He had never intended to let her know his plans. Telling her would only make things worse. Already, he had let things go too far, hoping this time would be different.

She drew nearer, and her eyes fell on his sketchbook. "You were drawing me?" Her startled tone reminded him how great the gap was in their understanding. Ever after all the time they'd spent together these past few weeks, she had not yet begun to glimpse the truth that lay behind their attraction.

This was good-or at least, it was for the better. For the past several days, since he'd made the choice to leave, he'd been struggling to pull away from her. The effort took so much out of him that, as soon as he was alone, he had to give in to his pent-up desire to draw her. He had filled up his book with pages of her arched eyebrows, her marble collarbone, the dark abyss of her hair.

Now, he looked back at the sketch, nost ashamed at being caught drawing her, but worse. A cold chill spread throught him as he realized that her discovery-the exposure of his feelings-would destroy her. He should have been more careful. It always began like this.

"Warm milk with a spoonful of treacle," he murmured, his back still to her. Then he added sadly, "It helps you sleep."

"How did you know? Why, that's exactly what my mother used to-"

"I know," he said, turning to face her. The astonishment in her voice did not suprise him, yet he could not explain to her how he knew, or tell her how many times he had adminstered this very drink to her in the past when the shadows came, how he held her until she fell asleep.

He felt her touch as though it were burnging through his shirt, her hand laid gently on his shoulder, causing him to gasp. They had not yet touched in this life, and the first contact always left him breathless.

"Answer me," she whispered. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

"Then take me with you," she blurted out. Right on cue, he watched her suck in her breath, wishing to take back her plea. He could see the progression of her emotions settle in the crease between her eyes: She would feel impetuous, then bewildered, then ashamed by her own forwardnes. She always did this, and too many times before, he had made the mistake of comforting her at this exact moment.

"No," he whispered, remembering . . . always remembering . . . "I sail tomorrow. If you care for me at all, you won't say another word."

"_If_ I care for you," she repeated, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "I-I _love-"_

"Don't."

"I have to say it. I-I love you, I'm quite sure, and if you leave-"

"If I leave, I save your life." He spoke slowly, trying to reach a part of her that might remember. Was it there at all, buried somewhere? "Some things are more important than love. You won't understand, but you have to trust me."

Her eyes drilled into him. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. This was his fault too-he always brought out her contemptuous side when he spoke down to her.

"You mean to say there are things more important than this?" she challenged, taking his hands and drawing them to her heart.

Oh, to be her and not know what was coming! Or at least be stronger than he was and be able to stop her. If he didn't stop her, she would never learn, and the past would only repeat itself, torturing them both again and again.

The familiar warmth of her skin under his hands made him tilt his head back and moan. He was trying to ignore how close she was, how well he knew the feel of her lips on his, how bitter he felt that all of this had to end. But her fingers traced his so lightly. He could feel her heart racing through her thin cotton gown.

She was right. There was nothing more than this. There never was. He was about to give in and take her in his arms when he caught the look in her eyes. As if she'd seen a ghost.

She was the one to pull away, a hand to her forehead.

"I'm having the strangest sensation," she whispered.

No-was it already too late?

Her eyes narrowed into the shape in his sketch and she came back to him, her hands on his chest, her lips parted expectantly. "Tell me I'm mad, but I swear I've been right here before . . ."

So it _was_ too late. He looked up, shivering, and could feel the dark descending. He took one last chance to seize her, to hold her as tightly as he'd been yearning to for weeks.

As soon as her lips melted into his, both of them were powerless. The honeysuckle taste of her mouth made him dizzy. The closer she pressed against him, the more his stomach churned with the thrill and the agony of it all. Her tongue traced his, and the fire between them burned brighter, hotter, and more powerful with every new touch, every new exploration. Yet none of it was new.

The room quaked. An aura around them started to glow.

She noticed nothing, was aware of nothing, understood nothing beside their kisses.

He alone knew what was about to happen, what dark companions were prepared to fall on their reunion. Even though he was unable to alter the course of their lives yet again, he knew.

The shadows swirled directly overhead. So close, he might have touched them. So close, he wondered whether she could hear what they were whispering. He watched as the cloud passed over her face. For a moment he saw a spark of recognition growing in her eyes.

Then there was nothing at all.

**A/N: So this is basically a complete rendition of Lauren Kate's Fallen trilogy Hunger Games style. I didn't want to put it in the crossover section for the obvious reason that no-one really goes there that often. I decided to do this because it made me excited how similar the characters of Fallen could be to some of the Hunger Games characters. So, please enjoy!**

**Please R&R :D**


	2. Perfect Strangers

**Chapter One**

**Perfect Strangers**

Katniss barged into the fluorescent-lit lobby of the Capitol Cross School ten minutes later than she should have. A barrel-chested attendant with ruddy cheeks and a clipboard clamped under an iron bicep was already giving orders-which meant Katniss was already behind.

"So remember, it's meds, beds, and reds," the attendant barked at a cluster of three other students all standing with their backs to Katniss. "Remember the basics and no one gets hurt."

Katniss hurried to slip in behind the group. She was still trying to figure out whether she'd filled out the giant stack of paperwork correctly, whether this guide standing before them was a man or a woman, whether there was anyone to help her with this enormous duffel bag, whether her parents were going to rid of her beloved Plymouth Fury the minute they arrived home from dropping her off here. They'd been threatening to sell the car all summer, and now they had a reason even Katniss couldn't argue with: No one was allowed to have a car at Katniss' new school. Her new _reform_ school, to be percise.

She was still getting used to the term.

"Could you, uh, could you repeat that?" she asked the attendant. "What was it, meds-?"

"Well look what the storm blew in," the attendant said loudly, then continued, enunciating slowly: "_Meds._ If you're one of the medicated students, this is where you go to keep yourself doped up, sane, breathing, what-ever." _Woman,_ Katniss decided, studying the attendant. No man would be catty enough to say all that in such a sacharine tone of voice.

"Got it." Katniss felt her stomach heave. "Meds."

She'd been off meds for years now. After the accident this past summer, Dr. Aurelis, her specialist in District 12-and the reason her parents sent her to boarding school all the way in the Capitol-had wanted to consider medicating her again. Thought she'd finally convinced him of her quasi-stability, it had taken an extra month of analysis on her part just to stay off those awful antipsychotics.

Which was why she was enrolling in her senior year at Capitol Cross a full month after the academic year had begun. Being a new student was bad enough, and Katniss had been really nervous about having to jump into classes where everyone else was already settled. But from the looks of the tour, she wasn't the only new kid arriving today.

She sneaked a peek at the three other students standing in a half circle around her. At her last school, the campus tour on the first day was where she'd met her best friend, Madge. On a campus where all the other students had practically weaned together, it would have been enough that Katniss and Madge were the only non-legacy kids. But it didn't take long for the two girls to realize they also had the exact same obsession with the exact same movies-especially where Albert Finney was concerned. After their discovery freshman year while watching _Two for the Road_ that neither one of them could make a bag of popcorn without setting off the fire alarm, Madge and Katniss hadn't left each other's sides. Until . . . until they'd had to.

At Katniss' sides today were two boys and a girl. The girl seemed easy enough to figure out, blond and Neutrogena-commerical pretty, with pastel pink manicured nails that matched her plastic binder.

"I'm Delly," she drawled, flashing Katniss a big smile that disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced, before Katniss could even offer her own name. The girl's waning interest reminded her more of a southern version of the girls at her old school than someone she'd expect at Capitol Cross. Katniss couldn't decide whether this was comforting or not, any more than she could imagine what a girl who looked like this would be doing at a reform school.

To Katniss' right was a guy with short brown hair, brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose. But the way he wouldn't even meet her eyes, just kept picking at a hangnail on his thumb, gave Katniss the impression that, like her, he was probably still stunned and embarassed to find himself here.

The guy to her left, on the other hand, fit Katniss' image of this place a little too perfectly. He was tall and well built, with a DJ bag slung over his shoulder, dark brown hair and large grey eyes that matched her own. His lips were full and a natural rose colour that most girls would kill for. At the back of his neck, a black tattoo in the shape of a sunburst seemed to glow on his tanned skin, rising up from the edge of his black t-shirt.

Unlike the other two, when this guy turned to meet her gaze, he held it and didn't let go. His mouth was set in a straight line, but his eyes were warm and alive. He gazed at her, standing as still as a sculpture, which made Katniss feel rooted to her spot too. She sucked in her breath. Those eyes were intense, and alluring, and well, a little disarming.

With some loud throat-clearing noises, the attendant interrupted the boy's trancelike stare. Katniss blushed and pretended to be very busy stratching her head.

"Those of you who've learned the ropes are free to go after you dump your hazards." The attendant gestured at a large cardboard box under a sign that said in big black letters: PROHIBITED MATERIALS**. **"And when I say _free_, Blight,"-she clamped a hand down on the freckled kid's shoulder, making him jump-"I mean guymnasium-bound to meet your preassigned student guides. You"-she pointed at Katniss-"dump your hazards and stay with me."

The four of them shuffled toward the box and Katniss watched, baffled, as the other students began to empty their pockets. The girl pulled out a three-inch pink Swiss Army knife. The grey-eyed guy reluctantly dumped a can of spray paint and a box cutter. Even the hapless Blight let loose several books of matches and a small container of lighter fluid. Katniss felt almost stupid that she wasn't concealing a hazard of her own-but when she saw the other kids reach into their pockets and chuck their cell phones into the box, she gulped.

Leaning forward to read the PROHIBITED MATERIALS sign a little more closely, she saw that cell phones, pagers, and all two-way radio devices were strictly forbidden. It was bad enough that she couldn't have her car! Katniss clamped a sweaty hand around the cell phone in her pocket, her only connection to the outside world. When the attendant saw the look on her face, Katniss recieved a few quick slaps on the cheek. "Don't swoon on me, kid, they don't pay me enough to resuscitate. Besides, you get one phone call once a week in the main lobby."

One phone call . . . once a week? But-

She looked down at her phone one last time and saw that she'd recieved two new text messages. It didn't seem possible these would be her two _last_ text messages. The first one was from Madge.

_Call immediately! Will be waiting by the phone all nite so be ready to dish. And remember the mantra I assigned you. You'll survive! BTW, for what it's worth, I think everyone's totally forgotten about . . ._

In typical Madge fashion, she'd gone on so long that Katniss' crap phone cut the message off four lines in. In a way, Katniss was almost relieved. She didn't want to read about how everyone had already forgotten what had happened her, what she'd done to land herself in _this_ place.

She sighed and scrolled down to the second message. It was from her mom, who'd only just gotten the hang of texting a few weeks ago, and who surely had not known about this one-call-a-week thing or she would never have abandoned her daughter here. Right?

_Kiddo, we are always thinking of you. Be good and try to eat enough protein. We'll talk when we can. Love M&D._

With a sigh, Katniss realized her parents must have known. How else to explain their drawn faces when she'd waved goodbye at the school gates this morning, duffel bag in hand? At breakfast, she'd tried to joke about finally losing that appalling Panem accent she'd picked up at Hunger High, but her parents hadn't even cracked a smile. She'd thought they were still mad at her. They never did the whole raising-their-voice thing, which meant that when Katniss really messed up, they just gave her the old silent treatment. Now she understood this morning's strange demeanor: Her parents were already mourning the loss of contact with their daughter.

"We're still waiting on one person," the attendant sang. "I wonder who it is." Katniss' attention snapped back to the Hazard Box, which was now brimming with contraband she didn't even recognize. She could feel the dark-haired boy's grey eyes staring at her. She looked up and noticed that _everyone_ was staring. Her turn. She closed her eyes and slowly opened her fingers, letting the phone slip from her grasp and land with a sad _thunk_ on top of the heap. The sound of being all alone.

Blight and the fembot Delly headed for the door without so much as a look in Katniss' direction, but the third boy turned to the attendant.

"I can fill her in," he said, nodding at Katniss.

"Not part of our deal," the attendant replied automatically, as if she'd been expecting this dialogue. "You're a new student again-that means new-student restrictions. Back to square one. You don't like it, you should have thought twice about breaking parole." The boy stood motionless, expressionless, as the attendant tugged Katniss-who'd stiffened at the word 'parole'-toward the end of a yellowed hall.

"Moving on," she said, as if nothing had just happened. "Beds." She pointed out the west facing window to a distant cinder-block building. Katniss could see Delly and Blight shuffling slowly toward them, with the third boy walking slowly, as if catching up to them were the last thing on his list of things to do.

The dorm was formidable and square, a solid gray block of a building whose thick double doors gave away nothing about the possiblilty of life inside them. A large stone plague stood planted in the middle of the dead lawn, and Katniss remembered from the Web site the words PAULINE DORMITORY chiseled into it. It looked even uglier in the hazy morning sun than it had looked in the flat black-and-white photograph.

Even from this distance, Katniss could see black mold covering the face of the dorm. All the windows were obstructed by rows of thicks steel bars. She squinted. Was that barbed wire topping the wire topping the fence around the building?

The attendant looked down at a chart, flipping through Katniss' file. "Room sixty-three. Throw your bag in my office with the rest of them for now. You can unpack this afternoon."

Katniss dragged her green duffel bag toward three other nondescript black trunks. Then she reached reflexively for her cell phone, where she usually keyed in things she needed to remember. But as her hand searched her empty pocket, she sighed and committed the room number to memory instead.

She still didn't see why she couldn't just stay with her parents; their house in Snow St. was less than a half hour from Capitol Cross. It had felt so good to be back home in the Savannah, where, as her mom always said, even the wind blew hazily. Georgia's softer, slower pace suited Katniss way more than Panem ever had.

But Capitol Corss didn't feel like Savannah. It hardly felt like anywhere at all, except the lifeless, colourless place where the court had mandated she board. She'd overheard her dad on the phone with the headmaster the other day, nodding in his befuddled biology professor way and saying, "Yes, yes, maybe it would be best for her to be supervised all the time. No, no, we wouldn't want to interfere with your system." Clearly her father had not seen the conditions of his daughter's supervision. This place looked like a maximum security prison.

"And what about, what did you say-the reds?" Katniss asked the attendant, ready to be released from the tour.

"Reds," the attendant said, pointing toward a small weird device hanging from the ceiling: a lens with a flashing red light. Katniss hadn't seen it before, but as soon as the attendant pointed the first one out, she realized they were everywhere.

"Cameras?"

"Very good," the attendant said, voice dripping condescension. "We make them obvious in order to remind you. All the time, everywhere, we're watching you. So don't screw up-that is, if you can help yourself."

Every time someone talked to Katniss like she was a total psychopath, she that much closer to believing it.

All summer, the memories had haunted her, in her dreams and in the rare moments her parents left her alone. _Something_ had happened in that cabin, and everyone (including Katniss) was dying to know exactly what. The police, the judge, the social worker had all tried to pry the truth uot of her, but she was as clueless about it as they were. She and Thresh had been joking around the whole evening, chasing each other down to the row of cabins by the lake, away from the rest of the party. She'd tried to explain that it had been one of the best nights of her life, until it turned into the worst.

She'd spent so much time replaying that night in her head, hearing Thresh's laugh, feeling his hands close around her waist, and trying to reconcile her gut instinct that she really was innocent.

But now, every rule and regulation at Capitol Cross seemed to work against the notion, seemed to suggest that she was, in fact, dangerous and needed to be controlled.

Katniss felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Look," the attendant said. "If it makes you feel any better, you're far from the worst case here."

It was the first humane gesture the attendant had made toward Katniss, and she believed that it _was_ intended to make her feel better. But. She'd been sent here because of the suspicious death of the guy she'd been crazy about, and _still_ she was 'far from the worst case here'? Katniss wondered what else exactly were they dealing with here at Capitol Cross.

"Okay, orientation's over," the attendant said. "You're on your own now. Here's a map if you need to find anything else." She gave Katniss a photocopy of a crude hand-drawn map, then glanced at her watch. "You've got an hour before your first class, but my soaps come on in five so-" she waved her hand at Katniss-"make yourself scarce. And don't forget," she said, pointing up at the cameras one last time. "The reds are watching you."

Before Katniss could reply, a skinny, dark-haired girl appeared in front of her, waggling her long fingers in Katniss' face.

"Ooooooh," the girl taunted in a ghost-story-telling voice, dancing around Katniss in a circle. "The reds are watching youuuuu."

"Get out of here, Johanna, before I have you lobotomized," the attendant said, thought it was clear from her first brief but genuine smile that she had some coarse affection for the crazy girl.

It was also clear the Johanna did not reciprocate the love. She mimed a jerking-off motion at the attendant, then stared at Katniss, daring her to be offended.

"And just for that," the attendant said, jotting a furious note in her book, "you've earned yourself the task of showing Little Miss Sunshine around today."

She pointed at Katniss, who looked anything but sunny in her black jeans, black boots and black top. Under the 'Dress Code' section of Capitol Cross Web site had cheerily maintained that as long as the students were on good behaviour, they were free to dress as they pleased with just two small stipulations: style must be modest and colour must be black. Some freedom.

The too-big mock turtleneck Katniss' mom had forced on her this morning did nothing for her curves, and even her best feature was gone: Her thick, dark hair, which used to hang down to her waist, had been almost completely shorn off. The cabin fire had left her scalp singed and her hairline patchy, so after the long, silent ride home from Hunger High, her mom had planted her in the bathtub, brought out her dad's electrice razor, and wordlessly shaved her head. Over the summer, the hair had grown out a little, just enough so that her once-enviable waves now hung in awkward twists below her ears.

Johanna sized her up, tapping one finger against her pale lips. "Perfect," she said, stepping forward to loop her arm through Luce's. "I was thinking I could really use a new slave."

The door to the lobby swung open and in walked the tall kid with grey eyes. He shook his head and said to Katniss, "This place isn't afraid to do a strip search. So if you're packing any other _hazards_"-he raised an eyebrow and dumped a handful of unrecognizables in the box-"Save yourself the trouble."

Behind Katniss, Johanna laughed under her breath. The boy's head shot up, and when his eyes registered Johanna, he opened his mouth, then closed it, like he was uncertain how to proceed.

"Johanna," he said evenly.

"Gale," she returned.

"You know him?" Katniss whispered, wondering whether there were the same kinds of cliques in reform schools as there were in prep schools like Hunger High.

"Don't remind me," Johanna said, dragging Katniss out the door into the grey and swampy morning.

The back of the main building let out onto a chipped sidewalk bordering a messy field. The grass was so overgrown, it looked more like a vacant lot than a school commons, but a faded scoreboard and a small stack of wooden bleachers argued otherwise.

Beyond the commons lay four severe-looking buildings: the cinder-block dormitory on the far left, a huge old ugly church on the far right, and two other expansive structures in between that Katniss imagined were the classrooms.

This was it. Her whole world was reduced to the sorry sight before her eyes.

Johanna immediately veered right off the path and led Katniss to the field, sitting her down on top of one of the waterlogged bleachers. The corresponding setup at Hunger High had screamed Ivy League jock-in-training, so Katniss had always avoided hanging out there. But this empty field, with its rusted, warped goals, told a very different story. One that wasn't as easy for Katniss to figure out. Three turkey vultures swooped over head, and a dismal wind whipped through the branches of the oak trees. Katniss ducked her chin down into her turtleneck.

"Soooo," Johanna said. "Now you've met Alma."

"I thought his name was Gale."

"We're not talking about him," Johanna said quickly. "I mean she-man in there." Johanna jerked her head toward the office where they'd left the attendant in front of the T.V. "Whaddya think-dude or chick?"

"Uh, chick?" Katniss said tentaviely. "Is this is a test?"

Johanna cracked a smile. "The first of many. And you passed. At least, I think you passed. The gender of most of the faculty here is an ongoing, schoolwide debate. Don't worry, you'll get into it."

Katniss thought Johanna was making a joke-in which case, cool. But this was all such a huge change from Hunger High. At her old school, the green-tie-wearing, pomaded future senators had practically oozed through the halls in the genteel hush that money seemed to lay over everything.

Most often than not, the other Hunger High kids gave Katniss a don't-smudge-the-white-walls-with-_your_-fingerprints sideways glance. She tried to imagine Johanna there: lazing on the bleachers, making a loud, crude joke in her peppery voice. Katniss tried to think what Madge might think of Johanna. There'd been no one like her at Hunger High.

"Okay, spill it," Johanna ordered. Plopping down on the top bleacher and motioning for Katniss to join her, she said, "What'd ya do to get in here?"

Johanna's tone was playful, but suddenly Katniss had to sit down. It was ridiculous, but she'd half expected to get through her first day of school without the past creeping up and robbing her of her thin facade of calm. Of course people here were going to want to know.

She could feel the blood thrumming at her temples. It happened whenever she tried to think back-really think back-to that night. She'd never stop feeling guilty about what had happened to Thresh, but she also tried really hard not to get mired down in the shadows, which by noe were the only things she could remember about the accident. Those dark, indefineable things that she could never tell anyone about.

Scratch that-she'd _started_ to tell Thresh about the peculiar presence she'd felt that night, about the twisting shapes hanging over their heads, threatening to mar their perfect evening. Of course, by then it was already too late. Thresh was gone, his body burned beyond recognition, and Katniss was . . . was she . . . guilty?

No one knew about the murky shapes she sometimes saw in the darkness. They'd always come to her. They'd come and gone for so long that Katniss couldn't even remember the first time she'd seen them. But she could remember the first time she realized that the shadows didn't come for everyone-or actually _anyone_ but her.

When she was seven, her family have been on a camping trip in Hilton Head forest and her parents had taken her on a fishing trip. It was just about sunset when the shadows started rolling in over the water, and she'd turned to her father and said, "What do you do when they come, Dad? Why aren't you afraid of the monsters?"

There were no monsters, her parents assured her, but Katniss' repeated insistence on the presence of _something_ wobbly and dark had gotten her several appointments with the family eye doctor, and then glasses, and then appointments with the ear doctor after she made the mistakes of describing the hoarse whoosing noise that the shadows sometimes made-and then therapy, and then more therapy, and finally the prescription for antiphyschotic medication.

But nothing ever made them go away.

By the time she was fourteen, Katniss refused to take her meds. That was when they found Doctor Aurelis, and the Hunger High school nearby. They flew to Panem and her father drove their rental car up a long, curved driveway to a hilltop mansion called Shady Hallows. They planted Katniss in front of a man in a lab coat and asked her if she still saw her 'visions.' Her parents' plams were sweating as they gripped her hands, brows furrowed with fear that there was something terribly wrong with their daughter. No one came out and said that if she didn't tell Doctor Aurelis what they wanted her to say, she might be seeing a whole lot more of Shady Hollows. When she lied and acted normal, she was allowed to enroll at Hunger High, and only had to visit Doctor Aurelis twice a month.

Katniss had been permitted to stop taking the horrible pills as soon as she started pretending she didn't see the shadows anymore. But she still had no control over when they might appear. All she knew was that the mental catalog of places where they'd come for her in the past-dense forests, murky waters-became the places she avoided at all costs. Even though she loved the woods and would spend endless hours hunting with her father when he wasn't working, she stopped going there for the sake of her own sanity. All she knew was that when the shadows came, they were usually accompanied by a cold chill under her skin, a sickening feeling unlike anything else.

Katniss straddled one of the bleachers and gripped her temples between her thumbs and middle fingers. If she was going to make it through today, she had to push her past to the recesses of her mind. She couldn't stand probing the memory of that night herself, so there was no way she could air the gruesome details to some weird, maniacal stranger.

Instead of answering, she watched Johanna, who was lying back on the bleachers, sporting a pair of enormous black sunglasses that covered the better part of her face. It was hard to tell, but she must have been staring at Katniss, too, because after a second, she shot up from the bleachers and grinned.

"Cut my hair like yours," she said.

"What?" Katniss gasped. "Your hair is beautiful."

It was true: Johanna had long, thick locks that Katniss so desperately missed having to braid every morning. Her loose dark curls sparkled in the sunlight, giving off just a tinge of red. Katniss tucked her hair behind her ears, even though it still wasn't long enough to do anything but flop back down in front of them.

"Beautiful schmootiful," Johanna said. "Yours is sexy, edgy. And I want it."

"Oh, um, okay," Katniss said. Was that a compliment? She didn't know if she was supposed to be flattered or unnerved by the way Johanna assumed she could have whatever she wanted, even if what she wanted belonged to someone else. "Where are we going to get-"

"Ta-da!" Johanna reaching into her bag and pulled out the Swiss Army knife Delly had tossed into the Hazard Box. "What?" she said, seeing Katniss' reaction. "I always bring my sticky fingers on new-student-drop-off days. The idea alone gets me through the dog days of Capitol Cross internment . . . er . . . summer camp."

"You spent the whole summer . . . here?" Katniss winced.

"Ha! Spoken like a true newbie. You're probably expecting a spring break." She tossed Katniss the Swiss Army knife. "We don't get to leave this hellhole. Ever. Now cut."

"What about the reds?" Katniss asked, glancing around with the knife in her hand. There were bound to be cameras out here.

Johanna shook her head. "I refuse to associate with pansies. Can you handle it or not?"

Katniss nodded.

"And _don't_ tell me you've neve cut hair before." Johanna grabbed the Swiss Army knife back from Katniss, pulled out the scissor tool, and handed it back. "Not another word until you tell me how fantastic I look."

In the 'salon' of her parents' bathtub, Katniss' mother had tugged the remains of her long hair into a messy ponytail before lopping the whole thing off. Katniss was sure there had to be a more strategic method of cutting hair, but as a lifelong haircut avoider, the chopped-off pony was about all she knew. She gathered Johanna's hair in her hands, wrapped an elastic band from her wrist around it, held the small scissors firmly, and began to hack.

The ponytail fell to her feet and Johanna gasped and whipped around. She picked it up and held it to the sun. Katniss' heart constricted at the sight. She still agnonized over her own lost hair, and all the other losses it symbolized. But Johanna just let a thin smile spread across her lips. She ran her fingers through the ponytail once, then dropped it into her bag.

"Awesome," she said. "Keep going."

"Johanna," Katniss whispered before she could stop herself. "Your neck. It's all-"

"Scarred?" Johanna finished. "You can say it."

The skin of Johanna's neck, from the back of her left ear all the way down to her collarbone, was jagged and marbled and shiny. Katniss' mind went to Thresh-to those awful pictures. Even her own parents wouldn't look at her after they saw them. She was having a hard time looking at Johanna now.

Johanna grabbed Katniss' hand and pressed it to the skin. It was hot and cold at the same time. It was smooth and rough.

"I'm not afraid of it," Johnna said. "Are you?"

"No," Katniss said, though she wished Johanna would take her hand away so she could take hers away, too. Her stomach churned as she wondered whether this was how Thresh's skin would have felt.

"Are you afraid of who you really are Katniss?" Johanna asked.

"No," Katniss said again quickly. It must be so obvious that she was lying. She closed her eyes. All she wanted from Capitol Cross was a fresh start, a place where people didn't look at her the way Johanna was looking at her right now. Katniss felt so run down and exposed. She tugged her hand away. "So how'd it happen?" she asked, looking down.

"Remember how I didn't press you when you clammed up about what you did to get here?" Johanna asked, raising her eyebrows. Katniss nodded. Johanna gestured to the scissors. "Touch it up in the back, okay? Make me look real pretty. Make me look like you."

Even with the exact cut, Johanna would still only look like a very undernourished version of Katniss. When Katniss attempted to even out the first haircut she'd ever given, Johanna delved into the complexities of life at Capitol Cross.

"That cell block over there is Augustine. It's where we have our so-called Social events on Wednesday nights. And all of our classes," she said, pointing at a building the color of yellowed teeth, two buildings to the right of the dorm. It looked like it had been designed by the same sadist as Pauline. It was dismally square, fortified by the same barbed wire and barred windows. An unnatural-looking grey mist cloaked the walls like moss, making it impossible to see whether anyone was other there.

"Fair warning," Johanna continued. "You're going to hate the classes here. You wouldn't be human if you didn't."

"Why? What's so bad about them?" Katniss asked. Maybe Johanna just didn't like school in general. With her black nail polish, black eyeliner, and the black bag that only seemed big enough to hold her new Swiss Army knife, she didn't exactly look bookish.

"The classes are soulless," Johanna said. "Worse, they'll strip you of your soul. Of eighty kids in this place, I'd say we've only got about three remaining souls." She glanced up. "Unspoken for, anyway . . ."

That didn't sound promising, but Katniss was hung up on another part of Johanna's answer. "Wait, there are only eighty kids in this whole school?" The summer before she went to Hunger High, Katniss had pored over the thick Prospective Students handbook, memorizing all the statistics. But everything she had learnt so far about Capitol Cross had suprised her, making her realize that she was coming into reform school completely unprepared.

Johanna nodded, making Katniss accidently snip off a chunk of hair she'd meant to leave. Whoops. Hopefully Johanna wouldn't notice-or maybe she'd just think it was edgy.

"Eight classes, ten kids a pop. You get to know everybody's crap pret-ty quickly," Johanna said. "And vice versa."

"I guess so," Katniss agreed, biting her lip. Johanna was joking but she wondered whether she'd be sitting here with that cool smirk in her hazel eyes if she knew the exact nature of her backstory. The longer she could keep her past under wraps, the better off she'd be.

"And you'll want to steer clear of the hard cases."

"Hard cases?"

"The kids with the wristband tracking devices," Johanna said. "About a third of the student body."

"And they're the ones who-"

"You don't want to mess with. Trust me."

"Well, what'd they do?" Katniss asked.

As much as she wanted to keep her own story a secret, she didn't like the way Johanna was treating her like some sort of ingenue. Whatever those kids had done couldn't have been much worse than what everyone told her she had done. Or could it? After all, she knew next to nothing about these people and this place. The possiblitlies stirred up a cold grey fear in the pit of her stomach.

"Oh, you know," Johanna drawled. "Abided and abeted terrorist acts. Chopped up their parents and roasted them on a spit." She turned around to wink at Katniss.

"Shut up," Katniss said.

"I'm serious. Those psychos are under much tighter restrictions than the rest of the screwups here. We call them _the shackled._"

Katniss laughed at Johanna's dramatic tone.

"Your haircut's done," she said, running her hands through Johanna's hair to fluff it up a little. It actually looked really cool.

"Sweet," Johanna said. She turned to face Katniss. When she ran her fingers through her hair, the sleeves of her black sweater fell back on her forearms and Katniss caught a glimpse of a black wristband, dotted with rows of silver studs, and, on the other wrist, another band that looked more . . . mechanical. Johanna caught her looking and raised her eyebrows devilishly.

"Told ya," she said. "Total effing psychos." She grinned. "Come on, I'll give you the rest of the tour."

Katniss didn't have much choice. She scrambled down the bleachers after Johanna, who ducking when one of the turkey vultures swooped dangerously low. Johanna, who didn't seem to notice, pointed at a lichen-swathed church at the far right of the commons.

"Over here, you'll find our state-of-the-art gymnasuim," she said, assuming a nasal tour guide tone of voice. "Yes, yes, to the untrained eye it looks like a church. It used to be. We're kind of an architecutural hand-me-down Hell here at Capitol Cross. A few years ago, some calisthenic-crazed shrink showed up ranting about overmedicated teens running society. He donated a shit-ton of money so they'd convert it into a gym. Now the powers that be think we can work out in our 'frustrations' in a 'more natural and productive way.'"

Katniss groaned. She had always loathed gym class.

"Girl after my very own heart," Johanna commiserated. "Coach Atala is ee-vil."

As Katniss jogged to keep up, she took in the rest of the grounds. Hunger High quad had always been so well kept, all manicured and dotted with evenly spaced, carefully pruned trees. Capitol Cross looked like it had been plopped down and abandoned in the middle of a swamp. Weeping willows dangled to the ground, kudzu grew along the walls in sheets, and every third step they took squished. And it wasn't just the way the place looked. Every humid breath Katniss took stuck in her lungs. Just breathing at Capitol Cross made her feel like she was sinking into quicksand.

"Apparently the architects got in a huge standoff over how to retrofit the style of the old military academy buildings. The upshot is we ended up with half penitentiary, half medieval torture zone. And no gardener," Johanna said, kicking some slime off her combat boots. "Gross. Oh, and there's the cemetery."

Katniss followed Johanna's pointing finger to the far left side of the quad, just past the dormitory. An even thicker cloak of mist hung over the the walled-off portion of land. It was bordered on three sides by a thick forest of oaks. She couldn't see into the cemetery, which seemed almost to sink below the surface of the ground, but she could smell the rot and hear the chorus of cicadus buzzing in the trees. For a second, she thought she saw the dark swishing of the shadows-but she blinked and they were gone.

"That's a _cemetery?_"

"Yep. This used to be a military academy, way back to the Civil War days. So that's where they buried all their dead. It's creepy as all get-out. And _lawd_," Johanna said, piling on a fake southern accent, "it stinks to_ high Heaven."_ Then she winked at Katniss. "We hang out there a lot."

Katniss looked at Johanna to see if she was kidding. Johanna just shrugged. "Okay, only once. And it was only after a really big pharmaoalooza."

Now, that was a word Katniss recognized.

"Aha!" Johanna laughed. "I just saw a light go on up there. And somebody _is_ home. Well, Katniss, my dear, you may have gone to boarding school parties, but you've never seen a throw-down like reform school kids do it."

"What's the difference?" Katniss asked, trying to skirt the fact that she'd never actually been to a big party at Hunger High.

"You'll see." Johanna paused and turned to Katniss. "You'll come over tonight and hang out, okay?" She surprised Katniss by taking her hand. "Promise?"

"But I thought you said I should stay away from the hard cases," Katniss joked.

"Rule number two-don't listen to me!" Johanna laughed, shaking her head. "I'm certifiably insane!"

She started jogging away again and Katniss trailed after her.

"Wait, what was rule number one?"

"Keep up!"

~xXx~

As they came around the corner of the cinder-block classrooms, Johanna skidded to a halt. "Affect cool," she said.

"Cool," Katniss repeated.

All the other students seemed to be clustered around the kudzu-strangled trees outside the Augustine. No one looked exactly happy to be hanging out, but no one looked ready to go inside yet, either.

There hadn't been must of a dress code at Hunger High, so Katniss wasn't used to the uniformity it gave a student body. Then again, every black mock-turtleneck T-shirt and black sweater tied over the shoulders or around the waist were still substantial differences in the way they were pulled off.

A group of tattooed girls standing in a crossed-armed circle wore bangle bracelets up to their elbows. The black bandanas in their hair reminded Katniss of a film she'd once seen about motorcycle-gang girls. She'd rented it because she'd thought: _What could be cooler than an all-girls motorcycle gang?_ Now Katniss' eyes locked with one of the girls across the lawn. The sideways squint of the girl's darkly lined cat-eyes made Katniss quickly shift the direction of her gaze.

A guy and a girl who were holding hands had sewn sequins in the shape of skulls and crossbones on the back of their sweaters. Every few seconds, one of them would pull the other in for a kiss on the temple, on the earlobe, on the eye. When they looped their arms around each other, Katniss could see that each wore the blinking wristband tracking device. They looked a little rough, but it was obvious how much in love they were. Every time she saw their tongue rings flashing, Katniss felt a lonely pinch inside her chest.

Behind the lovers, a cluster of blond boys stood pressed against the wall. Each of them wore his sweater, despite the heat. And they all had on white oxford shirts underneath, the collars strarched straight up. Their black pants hit the vamps of their polished dress shoes perfectly. Of all the students on the quad, these boys seemed to Katniss to be the closest things to the students of Hunger High. But a closer look quickly set them apart from boys she used to know. Boys like Thresh.

Just standing in a group, these guys radiated a specific kind of toughness. It was right there in the look in their eyes. It was hard to explain, but it suddenly struck Katniss that just like her, everyone at this school has a past. Everyone here probably had secrets they wouldn't want to share. But she couldn't figure out whether this realization made her feel more or less isolated.

Johanna noticed Katniss' eyes running over the rest of the kids.

"We all do what we can to make it through the day," she said, shrugging. "But in case you hadn't observed the low-hanging vultures, this place pretty much reeks of death." She took a seat on a bench under a weeping willow and patted the spot next to her for Katniss.

Katniss wiped away a mound of wet, decaying leaves but just before she sat down, she noticed another dress violation.

A very attractive dress violation.

He wore a bright red scarf around his neck. It was far from cold outside, but he had on a black leather motorcycle jacket over his black sweater, too. Maybe it was because he only spot of colour on the quad, but he was all that Katniss could look at. In fact, everything else paled in comparsion that, for one long moment, Katniss forgot where she was.

She took in his deep golden hair and pale skin. His high cheekbones, the dark sunglasses that covered this eyes, the soft shape of his lips. In all the movies Katniss had seen, and in all the books she'd read, the love interest was mind-blowingly good-looking-except for the one little flaw. The chipped tooth, the charming cowlick, the beauty mark on his left cheek. She knew why-if the hero was _too_ unblemished, he'd risk being unapproachable. But approachable or not, Katniss had always had a weakness for the sublimely gorgeous. Like this guy.

He leaned up against the building with his arms crossed lightly over his chest. And for a split second, Katniss saw a flashing image of herself folded into those arms. She shook her head, but the vision stayed so clear that she almost took off toward him.

No. That was crazy. Right? Even at a school full of crazies, Katniss was well aware that this instinct was insane. She didn't even _know_ him.

He was talking to a tall guy with bronze hair and a toothy smile. Both of them were laughing hard and genuinely-in a way that made Katniss strangely jealous. She tried not to think back and remember how long it had been since she'd laughed, really laughed, like that.

"That's Peeta Mellark," Johanna said, leaning in and reading her mind. "I can tell he's attracted _somebody's_ attention."

"Understatement," Katniss agreed, embarassed when she realized how she must have looked to Johanna.

"Yeah, well, if you like that sort of thing."

"What's not to like?" Katniss asked, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

"His friend there is Finnick," Johanna said, nodding in the bronze haired guy's direction. "He's cool. The kind of guy who can get his hands on things, ya know?"

_Not really,_ Katniss thought, biting her lip. "What kinds of things?"

Johanna shrugged, using her poached Swiss Army knife to saw off a fraying strand from a rip in her black jeans."Just things. Ask-and-you-shall-recieve kind of stuff."

"What about Peeta?" Katniss asked. "What's his story.

"Oh, she doesn't give up," Johanna laughed, then cleared her throat. "No one really knows," she said. "He holds pretty tight to his mystery man persona. Could just be your typical reform school asshole."

"I'm no stranger to assholes," Katniss said, though as soon as the words came out, she wished she could take them back. After what happened with Thresh-whatever _had_ happened-she was the last person who should be making character judgments. But more than that, the rare time she made even the smallests references to that night, the shifting black canopy of the shadows came back to her, almost like she was right back at the lake.

She glanced again at Peeta. He took his glasses off and slid them inside his jacket, then turned to look at her. His gaze caught hers, and Katniss watched as his eyes widened and then quickly narrowed in what looked like suprise. But no-it was more than that. When Peeta's eyes held hers, her breath caught in her throat. She recognized him from somewhere.

But she would have remembered meeting someone like him. She would have remembered feeling as absolutely shaken up as she did right now. She realized they were still locking eyes when Peeta flashed her a smile. A jet of warmth shot through her and she had to grip the bench for support. She felt her lips pull up in a smile back at him, but then he raised his hand in the air.

And flipped her off.

Katniss gasped and dropped her eyes.

"What?" Johanna asked, oblivious to what had just gone down. "Never mind," she said. "We don't have time. I sense the bell."

The bell rang as if on cue, and the whole student body started the slow shuffle into the building. Johanna was tugging on Katniss' hand and spouting off directions about where to meet her next and when. But Katniss was still reeling from being flipped the bird by such a perfect stranger. Her momentary delirium over Peeta had vanished, and now the only thing she wanted to know was: What was that guy's problem?

Just before she ducked into her first class, she dared to glance back. His face was blank, but there was no mistaking it-he was watching her go.

**A/N: I'd strongly suggest reading the Fallen series yourselves. Even thought it is a literal carbon copy of what I'm writing without the Hunger Games references, it's an amazing read.**

**I almost forgot, I own nothing. All credit goes to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**

**Please R&R.**


	3. Fit to be tied

_**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! You guys are awesome! Here's chapter two just for you both! ^_^**_

_**I own nothing. All works belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Two**

**Fit to be tied**

Katniss had a piece of paper with her schedule printed on it, a half-empty notebook she'd started to fill at Hunger High in her Advanced European History class last year, two number two pencils, her favourite eraser, and the sudden bad feeling that Johanna might have been right about the classes at Capitol Cross.

The teacher had yet to materialize, the flimsy desks were arranged in haphazared rows, the supply closet was barricaded with stacks of dusty boxes piled in front of it. What was worse, none of the other kids seemed to notice the disarray. In fact, none of the other kids seemed to notice that they were in a classroom at all. They all stood clustered near the window, taking one last drag of a cigarette here, repositioning the extra-large safety pins on their T-shirts there. Only Blight was seated at an actual desk, carving something intricate on its surface with his pen. But the other new students seemed to have already found their places among the crowd. Gale had the preppy Hunger High looking guys in a tight cluster around him. They must have been friends when he was enrolled at Capitol Cross the first time. Delly was shaking hands with the tongue-pierced girl who'd been making out with the the tongue-pierced guy outside. Katniss felt stupidly envious that she wasn't daring enough to do anything but take a seat closer to the unthreatening Blight.

Johanna flitted about the others, whispering things Katniss couldn't make out, like some sort of goth princess. When she passed Gale, he tousled her newly chopped hair. "Nice mop Johanna." He smirked, tugging on a strand at the back of her neck. "My compliments to your stylist."

Johanna swatted him away. "Hands off, Gale. Which is to say: In your dreams." She jerked her head in Katniss' direction. "And you can give your compliments to my new pet, right over there."

Gale's grey eyes sparkled at Katniss, who stiffened. "I believe I will," he said, and started walking toward her. He smiled at Katniss, who was sitting with her ankles crossed under her chair and her hands folded neatly on her heavily graffitied desk. "Us new kids have to stick together," he said. "Know what I mean?"

"But I thought you'd been here before."

"Don't believe everything Johanna says." He glanced back at Johanna, who was standing at the window, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Oh no, she didn't say anything about you," Katniss said quickly, trying to remember whether or not that was actually true. It was clear Gale and Johanna didn't like each other, and even though Katniss was grateful to Johanna for taking her around this morning, she wasn't ready to pick any sides yet.

"I remember when I was a new kid here . . the first time." He laughed to himself. "My band had just broken up and I was lost. I didn't know anyone. I could have used someone without"-he glanced at Johanna again-"an _agenda_ to show me the ropes."

"What, and you have no agenda?" Katniss said, surprised to hear a flirting lilt in her voice.

An easy smile spread across Gale's face. He raised one eyebrow at her. "And to think I didn't want to come back here."

Katniss blushed. She didn't usually get involved with rocker guys-but then again, none of them had ever moved the desk next to her even closer, plopped down behind her, and stared at her with eyes quite so grey. Gale reached into his pocket and pulled out a green guitar pick with the number 44 printed on it.

"This is my room number. Come by anytime."

The quitar pick wasn't far from her favourite shade of green, and Katniss wondered how and when he'd had these printed up, but before she could answer-and who knew _what_ she would answer-Johanna clamped a hard hand down on Gale's shoulder. "I'm sorry, did I not make myself clear? I've already called dibs on this one."

Gale snorted. He looked straight at Katniss as he said, "See, I thought there was still such a thing as free will. Maybe your _pet_ has a path of her own in mind."

Katniss opened her mouth to claim that of course she had a path, it was just her first day here and she was still figuring out the ropes. But by the time she was able to get words straight in her head, the minute-warning bell rang, and the little gathering over Katniss' desk dissolved.

The other kids filed into desks around her, and soon it stopped being so noteworthy that Katniss was sitting prim and proper at her desk, keeping her eye on the door. Keeping a lookout for Peeta.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel Gale sneaking peeks at her. She felt flattered-and nervous, then frustrated with herself. Peeta? Gale? She'd been at this school for what, forty-five minutes?-and her mind was already juggling two different guys. The whole reason she was at this school at all was because the last time she'd been interested in a guy, things had gone horribly wrong. She should _not_ be allowing herself to get all smitten (twice!) on her very first day of school.

She looked over at Gale, who winked at her again, then brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Staggering good lookings aside-yeah, right-he really did seem like a useful person to know. Like her, he was still adjusting to the setting, but had clearly been around the Capitol Cross block a few times before. And he was nice to her. She thought about the green guitar pick with his room number, hoping he didn't give those out freely. They could be . . . friends. Maybe that was all that was needed. Maybe then she would stop feeling quite so obviously out of place at Capitol Cross.

Maybe then she'd be able to forgive the fact that the only window in the classroom was the size of a business envelope, caked with lime, and looked out on a massive mausoleum in the cemetery.

Maybe then she'd be able to forget the nose-tickling odor of peroxide emanating from the bleached blond punk chick sitting in front of her.

Maybe then she could actually pay attention to the stern, ruggard teacher who marched into the room, obviously nursing a hang over, and commanded the class to _shapeupandsitdown,_ and firmly closed the door.

The smallest tweak of disappointment tugged at her heart. It took a moment to trace where it had come from. Until the teacher shut the door, she'd been holding out a little hope that Peeta would be in her first class, too. What did she have next hour, French? She looked down at her schedule to check what room it was in. Just then, a paper airplane skidded across her schedule, over-shot her desk, and landed on the floor by her bag. She checked to see who'd noticed, but the teacher was busy tearing through a piece of chalk as he wrote something on the board.

Katniss glanced nervously to her left. When Gale looked over at her, he gave her a wink and a flirty little waved that caused her whole body to tense up. But he didn't seem to have seen or been responsible for the paper airplane.

"Pssst," came the quiet whisper behind him. It was Johanna, who motioned with her chin for Katniss to pick up the paper plane. Katniss bent down to reach for it and saw her name written in small black letters on the wing. Her first note!

_Already looking for the exit?  
Not a good sign.  
We're in this hellhole until lunch._

That _had_ to be a joke. Katniss double-checked her schedule and realized with horror that all three of her morning classes were in this very same room 1-and all three would be taught by the very same Mr. Abernathy.

He'd detatched himself from the blackboard and was sleepily threading his way through the room. There was no introduction for the new kids-and Katniss couldn't decide whether she was glad about that or not. Mr. Abernathy merely slapped syllabi on each of the four new student's desks. When the stapled packet landed in front of her, she leaned forward eargerly to take a look. _History of the World,_ it read._ Circumventing the Doom of Mankind._ Hmmm, history _had_ always been her strongest subject, but circumventing doom?

A closer look at the syllabus was all it took for Katniss to see that Johanna had been right about being in a hellhole: an impossible reading load, TEST in big, bold letters every third class period, and a thirty-page paper on-seriously?-the failed tyrant of your choice. Thick black parentheses had been drawn in black Sharpie around the assignments Katniss had missed during the first few weeks. In the margins, Mr. Abernathy has written_ see me for Makeup Research Assignment. _If there was a more effective way of soul-sucking, Katniss would be scared to find out.

At least she had Johanna sitting back there in the next row. Katniss was glad the precedent had already been set for SOS note-passing. She and Madge used to text each other on the sly, but to make it here, Katniss was definetly going to need to learn to fold a paper airplane. She tore a sheet from her notebook and tried to use Johanna's as a model.

After a few origami-challenged minutes, another plane landed on her desk. She glanced back at Johanna,, who shook her head and gave her a you-have-so-much-to-learn roll of her eyes. Katniss shrugged an apology and swiveled back around to open the second note.

_Oh, and until you're confident about your aim, you might not want to fly any Peeta-related messages my way. Dude behind you is famous on the football field for his interceptions._

Good to know. She hadn't even seen Peeta's friend Finnick come in behind her. Now she turned very slightly in her seat until she glimpsed his bright orange hair out of the corner of her eye. She dared a glance down at the open notebook on his desk and caught his full name. Finnick Odair.

"No note-passing," Mr. Abernathy said sternly, causing Katniss to whip her head back to attention. "No plagiarizing, and no looking at one another's papers. I didn't put myself through graduate school only to receive your divided attention."

Katniss nodded in unison with the other dazed kids just as the third paper plane glided to a stop in the middle of her desk.

_Only 172 minutes to go!_

~xXx~

A hundred and seventy-three torturous minutes later, Johanna was leading Katniss to the cafeteria. "What'd ya think?" she asked.

"You were right," Katniss said numbly, still recovering from how painfully bleak her first three hours of class had been. "Why would anyone teach such a depressing subject?"

"Aw, Abernathy'll ease up soon. He puts on his no-guff face every time there's a new student. Anyway," Johanna said, poking Katniss. "it could be worse. You could have gotten stuck with Ms. Paylor."

Katniss glanced down at her schedule. "I have her for biology in the afternoon block," she said with a sinking feeling in her gut.

As Johanna sputtered out a laugh, Katniss felt a bump on her shoulder. It was Gale, passing them in the hall on his way to lunch. She would have went sprawling if not for his hand reaching back to steady her.

"Easy there." He shot her a quick smile, and she wondered if he had bumped into her intentionally. But he didn't seem that juvenile. Katniss glanced at Johanna to see whether she'd noticed anything. Johanna just raised her eyebows, almost inviting Katniss to speak, but neither one of them said a thing.

When they crossed the dusty interior windows seperating bleak hall from bleaker cafeteria, Johanna took hold of Katniss' elbows.

"Avoid the chicken-fried steak at all costs," she coached as they followed the crowd into the din of the lunchroom. "The pizza's fine, the chilli's okay, and actually the borscht ain't bad. Do you like meatloaf?"

"I'm a vegetarian," Katniss said. She was glancing around the tables, looking for two people in particular. Peeta and Gale. She'd just feel more at ease if she kenw where they were so she could go about having her lunch pretending that she didn't see either one of them. But so far, no sightings . . .

"Vegetarian, huh?" Johanna pursed her lips. "Hippie parents or you own meager attempt at rebellion?"

"Uh, neither, I just don't-"

"Like meat?" Johanna steered Katniss' shoulders ninety degrees so that she was looking directly at Peeta, sitting at a table across the room. Katniss let out a long exhale. There he was. "Now, does that go for _all_ meat?" Johanna sang loudly. "Like you wouldn't mind sinking your teeth into _him?_"

Katniss slugged Johanna and dragged her toward the lunch line. Johanna was cracking up, but Katniss knew she was blushing badly, which would be excruciatingly obvious in thie fluorscent lighting.

"Shut up, he totally heard you," she whispered. Part of her felt glad to be joking about boys with a friend. Assuming Johanna was her friend. She still felt unglued by what happened this morning when she'd seen Peeta. That pull toward him-she still didn't understand where it came from and yet there it was again. She made herself tear her eyes away from his blond hair, from the smooth line of his jaw. She refused to be caught staring. She did _not_ want to give him any reason to flip her off a second time.

"Whatever," Johanna scoffed. "He's so focused on that hamburger, he wouldn't hear the call of Satan." She gestured at Peeta, who did look intensely focused on his burger. Scratch that, he looked like someone _pretending_ to be intensely focused on chewing his hamburger.

Katniss glanced across the table at Peeta's friend Finnick. He was looking straight at her. When he caught her eye, he waggled his eyebrows in a way she couldn't make sense of but still creeped her out a little. She turned back to Johanna. "Why is everyone at this school so weird?"

"I'm going to choose not to take offense at that," Johanna said, picking up a plastic tray and handing one to Katniss. "And I'm going to move on to explaining the fine art of selecting a cafeteria seat. You see, you never want to be anywhere near the-Katniss, look out!

All Katniss did was take one step backward, but as soon as she did she felt the rough shove of two hands on her shoulders. Immediately, she knew she was going down. She reached out in front of her for support, but all her hands found was someone else's full lunch tray. The whole thing tumbled down right along with her. She landed with a thud on the cafeteria floor, a full cup of borscht in her face.

When she'd wiped enough mushy beets out of her eyes to see, Katniss looked up. The angriest pixie she'd ever seen was standing over her. The girl had long, bleach blond hair, two studs in her ears that sparkled under the lights, and a death glare. She bared her teeth at Katniss and hissed, "If the sight of you hadn't ruined my appetite, I'd make you buy me another lunch."

Katniss stammered an apology. She tried to get up, but the girl clamped the heel of her black stiletto boot down on her foot. Pain shot up her leg, and she had to bite her lip so she wouldn't cry out.

"Why don't I just take a rain check," the girl said.

"That's enough, Glimmer," Johanna said coolly. She reached down to help Katniss to her feet. She winced. The stiletto was definetly going to leave a bruise. Glimmer squared her hips to face Johanna, and Katniss got the feeling this wasn't the first time they'd locked horns.

"Fast friends with the newbie," Glimmer growled. "This is very bad behavior, Jo. Aren't you supposed to be on probation?"

Katniss swallowed. Johanna hadn't mentioned anything about probation, and it didn't make sense that that would prohibit her from making new friends. But the word was enough to make Johanna clench her fist and throw a fat punch that landed on Glimmer's right eye.

Glimmer reeled backward, but it was Johanna that caught Katniss' attention. She'd begun convulsing, her thin arms thrown up and jerking in the air.

It was the wristband, Katniss realized with horror. It was sending some sort of shock through Johanna's body. Unbelieveable. This was cruel and unusual punishment, for sure! Katniss' stomach churned as she watched her friend's entire body quake. She reached out to catch Johanna just as she sank to the floor.

"Johanna," Katniss whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Terrific." Johanna's dark eyes flickered open, then shut. Katniss gasped. The one of Johanna's eyes popped back open. "Scared ya, did I? Aw, that's sweet. Don't worry, the shocks won't kill me," she whispered. "They only make me stronger. Anyway, it's worth it to give that cow a black eye, you know?"

"All right, break it up. Break it up," a husky voice boomed behind them.

Alma stood in the doorway, red-face and breathing hard. It was a little too late to break anything up, Katniss thought, but then Glimmer was lurching toward them, her stiletto heels clicking on the linoleum. This girl was shameless. Was she really going to kick the crap out of Johanna with Alma standing right there?

Luckily, Alma arms closed around her first. Glimmer tried to kick her way out and started screaming. "Somebody better start talking," Alma barked, squeezing Glimmer until she went limp. "On second thought, all three of you report for detention tomorrow morning. Cemetery. Crack of dawn!" Alma looked at Glimmer. "Have you _chilled_ yet?" Glimmer nodded stiffly, and Alma released her. She crouched down to where Johanna lay still in Katniss' lap, her arms crossed over her chest. At first Katniss thought that Johanna was sulking, like an angry dog with a shock collar, but then Katniss felt a small jolt from Johanna's body and realized that the girl was still at the mercy of the wristband.

"Come on," Alma said, more softly. "Let's go turn you off."

She extended her hand to Johanna and helped heave up her tiny, shaking body, turning back only once at the doorway to repeat her orders for Katniss and Glimmer.

"Crack of dawn!"

"Looking forward to it," Glimmer said sweetly, reaching down to pick up the plate of meatloaf that had slipped from her tray. She dangled it over Katniss' head for a second then turned the plate upside down and mashed the food into her hair. Katniss could hear the squish of her own mortification as all of Capitol Cross got its viewing of the meat-loaf-coated girl.

"Priceless," Glimmer said, pulling out the tiniest silver camera from her back pocket of her black jeans. "Say meat loaf," she sang, snapping a few close up shots. "These will be _great_ on my blog."

"Nice hat," someone jeered from the other side of the cafeteria. Then, with trepidation, Katniss turned her eyes to Peeta, praying that somehow he had missed the whole scene. But no. He was shaking his head. He looked annoyed.

Until that moment, Katniss had thought she had a chance at standing up and just shaking off the incident-literally. But Peeta's reaction-well, it finally made her crack.

She would _not_ cry in front of any of these horrible people. She swallowed hard, to to her feet, and took off. She rushed toward the nearest door, eager to feel some cool air on her face.

Instead, the southern September humidity cloaked her, choking her, as soon as she got outside. The sky was that no-colour colour, a greyish brown so oppreshively bland it was difficult even to find the sun. Katniss slowed down, but got as far as the edge of the parking lot before she came to a complete stop.

She longed to see her battered old car there, to sink into the fraying cloth seat, rev the engine, crank up the stereo and peel the hell out of this place. But as she stood on the hot black pavement, reality set in: She was stuck here, and a pair of towering metal gates seperated her from the world outside Capitol Cross. Besides, even if she'd had a way out . . . where was she going to go?

The sick feeling in her gut told her all she needed to know. She was already at the last stop, and things were looking pretty grim.

It was depressing as it was true: Capitol Cross was all she had.

She dropped her face into her hands, knowing she had to go back. But when she lifted her head, the residue on her palm reminded her that she was still coated in Glimmer's meatloaf. Ugh. First stop, the nearest bathroom.

Back inside, Katniss ducked into the girls' room just as the door was swinging open. Delly, who appeared even more blond and flawless now that Katniss looked like she'd just gone Dumpster Diving, squeezed past.

"Whoops, 'scuse me, honey," she said. Her southern accented voice was sweet, but her face crumpled up at sight of Katniss. "Oh God, you look terrible. What happened?"

What happened? As if the whole school didn't already know. This girl was probably playing dumb so Katniss would relive the whole mortifying scene.

"Wait five minutes," she replied, with more of an edge to her voice than she meant. "I'm sure gossip spreads like the plague around here."

"You want to borrow my foundation?" Delly asked, holding up a pastel blue cosmetics case. "You haven't seen yourself yet, but you're going to-"

"Thanks, but no," Katniss cut her off, pushing into the bathroom. Without looking at herself in the mirror, she turned on the faucet. She splashed cold water on her face and finally let it out. Tears streaming, she pumped the soap dispenser and tried to use some of the cheap pink powdered hand soap to scrub off the meat loaf. But there was still the matter of her hair. And her clothes had definetly looked and smelled better. Not that she needed to worry about making a good first impression anymore.

The bathroom door cracked open and Katniss scrambled against the wall like a trapped animal. When a stranger walked in, Katniss stiffened and waited for the worse. The girl was a couple of inches smaller than herself but made up for her size by wearing an abnormal amount of layers. Her dark skin matched her hair, which was slightly curly. She looked fairly unassuming, but then, looks could be deceiving. Both of her hands were tucked behind her back in a way that, after the day Katniss had had, she just couldn't trust.

"You know, you're not supposed to be in here without a pass," the girl said. Her even tone seemed to mean business.

"I know." The look in the girl's eyes confirmed Katniss' suspicion that it was absolutely impossible to catch a break at this place. She started to sigh in surrender. "I just-"

"I'm kidding." The girl laughed, rolling her eyes and assuming a more relaxing posture. "I snagged some shampoo from the locker room for you," she said, bringing her hands around to display two innocent-looking plastic bottles of shampoo and conditioner. "Come on," she said, pulling over a beat-up folding chair. "Let's get you cleaned up. Sit here."

A half-wimpering, half-laughing noise she'd never made before escaped from Katniss' lips. It sounded, she guessed, like relief. The girl was actually being nice to her-not just reform school nice, but regular-person nice! For no apparent reason. The shock of it was almost too great for Katniss to stand. "Thanks?" she managed to say, still feeling a little guarded.

"Oh, and you probably need a change of clothes," the girl said, looking down at her black sweater and pulling it over her head to expose an identical black sweater underneath.

When she saw the suprised look on Katniss' face, she said, "What? I have a hostile immune system. I have to wear a lot of layers."

"Oh, well, will you be okay without this one?" Katniss made herself ask, even though she would have done just about anything right then to get out of the meat cloak she was wearing.

"Of course," the girl said, waving her off. "I've got three more on under this. And a couple more in my locker. It pains me to see a vegetarian covered in meat. I'm very empathetic."

Katniss wondered how this stranger knew about her dietary preferences, but more than that, she had to ask, "Um, why are you being so nice?"

The girl laughed, sighed, then shook her head. "Not everyone at Capitol Cross is a whore or jock-"

"Huh?" Katniss said.

"Capitol Cross . . . the home of Whores and Jocks. Lame nickname in town for this school. Obviously there aren't really any jocks here. I won't oppress your ears with some of the cruder nicknames they've come up with."

Katniss laughed.

"All I meant was, not everyone here is a complete jerk."

"Just the majority?" Katniss asked, hating it that she already sounded so negative. But it had been such a long morning, and she'd already been through so much, and maybe this girl wouldn't judge her for being a little bit gruff.

To her surprise, the girl smiled. "Exactly. And they sure give the rest of us a bad name." She stuck out her hand. "Rueabelle Van Syckle Lock-wood. You can call me Rue."

"Got it," Katniss said, still too frazzled to realize that, in her former life, she might have stifled a laught at this girl's moniker. It sounded like something straight off the pages of a Dickens novel. The again, there was something trustworthy about a girl with a name like that and could manage to introduce herself with a straight face. "I'm Katniss Everdeen."

"And your middle name is Lucinda," Rue said. "And you transferred from Hunger High in District 12."

"How'd you know that?" Katniss asked.

"Lucky guess?" Rue shrugged. "I'm kidding. I read your file, duh. It's a hobby."

Katniss stared at her blankly. Maybe she'd been too hasty with that trustworthy judgement. How could Rue have access to her file?

Rue took over running the water. When it got warm, she motioned for Katniss to lower her head into the sink. "See, the thing is," she explained. "I'm not actually crazy." She pulled Katniss up by her wet head. "No offense." Then lowered her back down. "I'm the only kid at this school without a court mandate. And you might not think it, but being legally sane has its advantages. For example, I'm also the only kid they trust to be an office aide. Which is dumb on their part. I have access to a lot of confidential shit."

"But if you don't _have_ to be here-"

"When your father's the groundskeeper of the school, they kind of have to let you go for free. So . . ." Rue trailed off.

Rue's father was the groundskeeper? From the looks of the place, it hadn't crossed Katniss' mind that they even _had_ a groundskeeper.

"I know what your thinking," Rue said, helping Katniss shampoo the last of the gravy from her hair. "That the grounds aren't exactly well kept?"

"No," Katniss lied. She was eager to stay on this girl's good side and wanted to put out the be-my-friend vibe way more than she wanted to seem like she actually cared about how often someone mowed the law at Capitol Cross.

"Dad died two years ago," Rue said quietly. "They got as far as sticking me with decaying old Headmaster Snow as my legal guardian, but, uh, they never really got around to hiring a replacement for dad."

"I'm sorry," Katniss said, lowering her voice, too. So someone else here knew what it was like to go through a major loss.

"It's okay," Rue said, squirting conditioner into her palm. "It's actually a really good school. I like it here a lot."

Now Katniss' head shot up, sending a spray of water across the bathroom. "You sure you're not crazy?" she teased.

"I'm kidding. I hate it here. It totally sucks."

"But you can't bring yourself to leave," Katniss said, tilting her head, curious. Rue bit her lip.

"I know it's morbid, but even if I weren't stuck with Snow, I couldn't leave. My dad's here." She gestured toward the cemetery, invisible from here. "He's all I've got."

"Then I guess you've more than some other people at this school," Katniss said, thinking of Johanna. Her mind rolled back to the way Johanna had gripped her ahnd on the quad today, the eager look in her hazel eyes when she made Katniss promise she'd swing by her dorm room tonight.

"She's gonna be okay," Rue said. "It wouldn't be Monday if Johanna didn't get carted off to the nurse after a fit."

"But it wasn't a fit," Katniss said. "It was that wristband. I saw it. It was shocking her."

"We have a very broad defintion of what makes for a 'fit' here at Capitol Cross. Your new enemy, Glimmer? She's thrown some legendary fits. They keep saying they're going to change her meds. Hopefully you'll have the pleasure of witnessing one good freak-out before they do."

Rue's intel was pretty remarkable. It crossed Katniss' mind to ask her what the story was with Peeta, but the complicated intensity of her interest in him was probably best kept to a need-to-know basis. At least until she figured it out herself.

She felt Rue's hand wringing the water from her hair. "That's the last of it," she said. "I think you're finally meat-free."

Katniss looked in the mirror and ran her hands through her hair. Rue was right. Except for the emotional scaring and the pain in her right foot, there was no evidence of her cafeteria brawl with Glimmer.

"I'm just glad you have short hair," Rue said. "If it were still as long as it was in the picture in your file, this would have been a much lengthier operation."

Katniss gawked at her. "I'm going to have to keep an eye on you, aren't I?"

Rue looped her arm through Katniss' and steered her out of the bathroom. "I'd like to see you try. I'm very hard to catch."

Katniss shot Rue a worried look, but Rue's face gave nothing away. "You're kidding, right?" she asked.

Rue smiled, suddenly cheery. "Come on, we gotta get to class. Aren't you glad we're in the same afternoon block?"

Katniss laughed. "When are you going to stop knowing everything about me?"

"Not in the forseeable future," Rue said, tugging her down the hall and back toward the cinder-block classrooms. "You'll learn to love it soon, I promise. I'm a very powerful friend to have."

_**A/N: I really enjoy writing this. It's calming.**_

_**Please R&R and let me know what you think :)**_


	4. Drawing Darkness

_**A/N: Hello guys, thanks for reading and reviewing! **_

_**I own nothing, everything belongs to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Three**

**Drawing Dark**

Katniss meandered down the dank dormitory hallway toward her room, dragging her green Camp Gruid duffel bag with the broken strap in her wake. The walls here were the colour of a dusty blackboard-and the whole place was strangely quiet, save for the dull hum of the yellow fluorescent lamps hanging from the water-stained drop panel ceilings.

Mostly, Katniss was surprised to see so many shut doors. Back at Hunger High, she'd always wished for more privacy break from the hallwide dorm parties that sprang up to all hours. You couldn't walk to your room without tripping over a powwow of girls sitting cross-legged against the wall.

But at Capitol Cross . . . well, either everyone was already getting started on their thirty-page term papers . . . or else the socializing here was of a much more behind-closed-doors variety. Speaking of which, the closed doors themselves were a sight to be seen. If the students at Capitol Cross got resourceful with their dress code violations, they were downright ingenious when it came to personalizing their spaces. Already Katniss has walked by one door frame with a beaded curtain, and another with a motion-detecting welcome mat that encouraged her to "move the hell on" when she passed it.

She came to a stop in front of the only blank door in the building. Room 63. Home bitter home. She fumbled for her key in the front pocket of her backpack, took a deep breath, and opened the door to her cell.

Except it wasn't _terrible_. Or maybe it wasn't as terrible as she'd been expecting. There was a decent-sized window that slid open to let in some less stifling night air. And past the steel bars, the view of the moonlit commons was actually sort of interesting, if she didn't think too hard about the graveyard that lay beyond it. She had a closet and a little sink, a desk to her work at-come to think of it, the saddest-looking thing in the room was the glimpse Katniss caught of herself in the full-length mirror behind the door.

She quickly looked away, knowing all too well what she'd find in the reflection. Her face looking pinched and tired. Her grey eyes flecked with stress. Her hair like her family's hysterical toy poodle's fur after a rainstorm. Rue's sweater fit her like a barbie doll's shirt. She was shivering. Her afternoon classes had been no better than the morning's, due mainly to the fact that her biggest fear had come to fruition: The whole school had already started calling her Meat Loaf. And unfortuantely, much like its namesake, the moniker seemed like it was going to stick.

She wanted to unpack, to turn generic room 63 into her own place, where she could go when she needed to escape and feel okay. But she only got as far as unzipping her bag before she collapsed on the bare bed in defeat. She felt so far away from home. It only took twenty-two minutes by car to get from the loose-hinged white-washed back door of her house to the rusty wrought iron entrance of Capitol Cross, but it might as well have been twenty-two years.

For the first half of the silent drive with her parents this morning, the neighborhoods all looked pretty much the same: pretty southern middle-class suburbia. But then the road had gone over the causeway toward the shore, and the terrain had grown more and more marshy. A swell of mangrove trees marked the entrance into the wetlands, but soon even those dwindled out. The last ten minutes of road to Capitol Cross were dismal. Greyish brown, featureless, forsaken. Back home in District 12, people around town always joked about the strangely memorable moldering stench out here: You knew you were in the marshes when your car started to reek of pluff mud.

Even though Katniss had grown up in Panem, she really wasn't that familiar with the far eastern part of the country. As a kid, she'd always just assumed that was because there wasn't any reason to come over here-all the stores, schools, and everyone her family knew were on the west side. The east side was just less developed. That was all.

She missed her parents, who'd stuck a Post-it on the first shirt at the top of her bag-_We love you!_ She missed her bedroom, which looked out on her dad's tomato vines. She missed Madge, who most certainly had sent her at least ten never-to-be-seen text messages already. She missed Thresh . . .

Or, well, that wasn't exactly it. What she missed was the way life had felt when she'd first started talking to Thresh. When she had someone to think about if she couldn't sleep at night, someone's name to doodle dorkily inside her notebook. The truth was, Katniss and Thresh never really had the chance to get to know each other all that well. The only memento she had was the pictures Madge had snapped covertly from across the football field between two of his squat sets, when he and Katniss had talked for fifteen seconds about . .. his squat sets. And the only real date she'd ever gone on with him hadn't even been a real date-just a stolen hour when he'd pulled her away from the rest of the party. An hour she'd regret for the rest of her life.

It had started out innocently enough, just two people going for a walk down by the lake, but it wasn't long before Katniss started to feel the shadows lurking overhead. Then Thresh's lips touched hers, and the heat coursed through her body, and his eyes turned white with terror . . . and seconds later, life as she'd known it had gone up in a blaze.

Katniss rolled over and buried her face into the crook of her arm. She'd spent months mourning Thresh's death, and now, lying in this strange room, with the metal bars digging into her skin through the thin mattress, she felt the selfish futility of it all. She hadn't know Thresh any more than she knew . . . well, Gale.

A knock on her door made Katniss shoot up from the bed. How would anyone find her here? She tiptoed to the door and pulled it open. Then she stuck her head into the very empty hallway. She hadn't even heard footsteps outside, and there was no sign of anyone having just knocked. Except the paper airplane pinned with a brass tack in the center of the corkboard next to her door. Katniss smiled to see her name written in black marker along the wing, but when she unfolded the note, all that was written inside was a black arrow pointing straight down the hall.

Johanna _had_ invited her over tonight, but that was before the incident with Glimmer in the cafeteria. Looking down the empty hallway, Katniss wondered about following the cryptic arrow. Then she glanced back at her giant duffel bag, her pity party waiting to be unpacked. She shrugged, pulled her door shut, put her room key in her pocket, and started walking.

She stopped in front of a door on the other side of the hall to check out an oversized poster of Sonny Terry, the blind musician who she knew from her father's stratchy record collection was an incredible blues harmonica player. She leaned forward to read the name on the corkboard and realized with a start that she was standing in front of Finnick Odair's room. Immediately, annoyinly, there was a little part of her brain that started calculating the odds that Finnick might be hanging out with Peeta, with only a thin door seperating them from Katniss.

A mechanical buzzing sound made Katniss jump. She looked straight into a surveillance camera drilled into the wall over Finnick's door. The reds. Zooming in on her every move. She shrank away, embarassed for reasons no camera would be able to discern. Anyway, she'd come here to see Johanna-whose room, she realized, just happened to be directly across the hall from Finnick.

In front of Johanna's room, Katniss felt a little stab of tenderness. The entire door was covered with bumper stickers-some printed, others obviously homemade. There were so many that they overlapped, each slogan half covering and often contradicting the one before it. Katniss laughed under her breath as she imagined Johanna collecting the bumper stickers indiscriminately (MEAN PEOPLE RULE . . . MY DAUGHTER IS AN F STUDENT AT CAPITOL CROSS . . . VOTE NO ON PROP 666), then slapping them with a haphazard-but comitted-focus onto her turf.

Katniss could have kept herself entertained for an hour reading Johanna's door, but soon she started to feel self concious about standing in front of a dorm room she was only half certain she'd actually been invited to. Then she saw the second paper airplane. She pulled it down from the corkboard and unfolded the message:

_My darling Katniss,_

_If you actually showed up to hang out tonight, props! We'll get along just fine. If you bailed on me, then . . . get you claws off my private note FINNICK! How many times do I have to tell you? Jeez. _

_Anyhow: I know I said to swing by tonight, but I had to dash straight from R&R in the nurses's station (the silver lining of my taser treatment today) to makeup biology with Paylor Which is to say-rain check?_

_~Yours psychotically;_

_Jo_

Katniss stood with the note in her hands, unsure about what to do next. She was relieved to read that Johanna was taken care of, but she still wished she could see the girl in person. She wanted to hear the nonchalance in Johanna's voice for herself, so that she'd know how to feel about what happened in the cafeteria today. But standing here in the hallway, Katniss was never more uncertain how to process the day's events. A quiet panic filled her when it finally registered that she was alone, after dark, at Capitol Cross.

Behind her, a door cracked open. A sliver of light opened up on the floor beneath her feet. Katniss heard the music being played inside a room.

"Whatcha doin'?" It was Finnick, standing in the doorway in a torn yellow T-shirt and jeans, a harmonica held up next to his lips.

"I came to see Johanna," Katniss said, trying to keep herself from looking past him to see if anyone else was in his room. "We were supposed to-"

"Nobody's home," he said, cryptically. Katniss didn't know if he meant Johanna, or the rest of the kids in the dorm, or what. He played a few bars on the harmonica, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. Then he held open the door a little bit wider and raised his eyebrows. She couldn't tell whether or not he was inviting her to come in.

"Well, I was just swinging by on my way to the library," she lied quickly, turning back the way she'd came. "There's a book I need to check out."

"Katniss," Finnick called out.

She turned around. They hadn't officially met yet, and she hadn't expected him to know her name. His eyes flashed a smile at her and he used the harmonica to point in the oppisote direction. "Library's that way," he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Be sure to check out the special collections in the east wing. They're really something."

"Thanks," Katniss said, feeling truly grateful as she changed course. Finnick seemed so real right then, waving and playing a few parting lines on the harmonica as she left. Maybe he'd only made her nervous earlier because she thought of him as Peeta's friend. For all she knew, Finnick could be a really nice person. Her mood lifted as she walked down the hallway. First Johanna's note had been snappy and sarcastic, then she'd had a non-awkward encounter with Finnick Odair; plus she really _did_ want to check out the library. Things were looking up.

Near the end of the hall, where the dorm elbowed off toward the library wing, Katniss passed the only cracked open door on the floor. There was no decorative flair on this door, but someone had painted it all black. As she got closer, Katniss could hear angry heavy metal music playing inside. It was Glimmer's.

Katniss quickened her steps, suddenly aware of every clop of her black riding boots on the linoleum. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she pushed throught he wood-grained library doors and exhaled.

A warm feeling came over Katniss as she looked around the library. She'd always loved the faintly sweet musty way that only a roomful of books smelled. She took comfort in the soft occasional sound of turning pages. The library at Hunger High had always been her escape, and Katniss felt almost overwhelmed with relief as she realized that this one might offer her the same sense of sanctuary. She could hardly believe that this place belonged to Capitol Cross. It was almost . . . it was actually . . . inviting.

The walls were a deep mahogany and the ceilings were high. A fireplace with a brick hearth lay along the wall. There were long wooden tables lit by old-fashioned green lamps, and aisles of books that went on farther than she could see. The sound of her boots was hushed by a thick Persian carpet as Katniss wandered past the entryway.

A few students were studying, none that Katniss knew by name, but even the more punky-looking kids seemed less threatening with their heads bent over books. She neared the main circulation desk, which was a great round station at the center of the room. It was strewn with stacks of papers and books and had a homey academic messiness that reminded Katniss of her parents' house. The books were piled so high that Katniss almost didn't see the librarian seated behind them. She was rooting through some paperwork with the energy of someone panning for gold. Her head popped up as Katniss appeared.

"Hello!" The woman smiled-she actually _smiled_-at Katniss. Her hair was vibrant pink, with a kind of brillance that sparkled even in the soft library light. Her face looked young. She had pale, almost incandescent skin, bright black eyes, and a tiny, pointed nose. When she spoke to Katniss, she pushed the sleeves of her white cashmere sweater, exposing stacks and stacks of pearl bracelets decorating both her wrists. "Can I help you find something?" she asked in a happy whisper.

Katniss felt instantly at ease with this woman, and glanced down at the nameplate on her desk. Effie Trinket. She wished she did have a library request. This woman was the first authority figure she'd seen all day whose help she actually wanted to seek out. But she was just wandering around . . . and then she remembered what Finnick Odair had said.

"I'm new here," she explained. "Katniss Everdeen. Could you tell me where the east wing is?"

The woman gave Katniss a you-look-like-the-reading-sort smile that she had been getting from librarians all her life. "Right that way," she said, pointing toward a row of tall windows on the other side of the room. "I'm Miss. Trinket, and if my roster's correct, you're in my religion seminar on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Oh we're going to have some fun!" She winked. "In the meantime, if you need anything else, I'm here. A pleasure to meet you, Katniss."

Katniss smiled her thanks, told Miss. Trinket happily that she'd see her tomorrow in class, and started toward the windows. She'd just cleared the main study area and was passing through the tall, elegant book stacks when something dark and macabre passed over her head. She glanced up.

_No. Not here. Please. Let me just have this one place._

When the shadows came and went, Katniss was never sure exactly where they ended up-or how long they would be gone.

She couldn't figure out what was happening now. Something was different. She was terrified, yes, but she didn't feel cold. In fact, she felt a little bit flushed. The library was warm, but it wasn't _that_ warm. And then her eyes fell on Peeta.

He was facing the window, his back to her, leaning over a podium that said SPECIAL COLLECTIONS in white letters. The sleeves of his worn leather jacket were pushed up around his elbows, and his blond hair glowed under the lights. His shoulders were hunched over, and yet again, Katniss had an instrinct to fold herself in them. She shook it from her head and stood on tiptoe to get a better look at him. From here, she couldn't be certain, but he looked like he was drawing something.

As she watched the slight movement of his body as he sketched, Katniss' insides felt like they were burning, like she'd swallowed something hot. She couldn't figure out why, against all reason, she had this wild premontion that Peeta was drawing her.

She _shouldn't_ go to him. After all, she didn't even know him, had never actually spoken to him. Their only communication so far had included one middle finger and a couple of dirty looks. Yet for some reason, it felt very important to her that she find out what was on that sketchpad.

Then it hit her. The dream she had the night before. The briefest flash of it came back to her all of a sudden. In the dream, it had been late at night-damp and chilly, and she'd been dressed up in something long and flowing. She leaned up against a curtained window in an unfamiliar room. The only other person there was a man . . . or a boy-she never got to see his face. He was sketching her likeness on a thick pad of paper. Her hair. Her neck. The precise outline of her profile. She stood behind him, afraid to let him know she was watching, too intrigued to turn away.

Katniss jerked forward as she felt something pinch the back of her shoulder, then float over her head. The shadow had resurfaced. It was black and as thick as a curtain. The pounding of her heart grew so loud that it filled her ears, blocking out the dark rustle of the shadow, blocking out the sound of her footsteps. Peeta glanced up from his work and seemed to raise his eyes to exactly where the shadow hovered, but he didn't start the way she had.

Of course, he couldn't see them. His focus settled calmly outside the window. The heat inside her grew stronger. She was close enough now that she felt like he must be able to feel it coming off her skin.

As quietly as she could, Katniss tried to peer over his shoulder at his sketchpad. For just a second, her mind saw the curve of her own bare neck sketched in pencil on one page. But then she blinked, and when he eyes settled back on the paper, she had to swallow hard.

It was a landscape. Peeta was drawing the view of the cemetery out the window in almost perfect detail. Katniss had never seen anything that made her quite so sad. She didn't know why-even for her-to have expected her bizarre intuition to come true. There was no reason for Peeta to draw her. She knew that. Just like he had no reason to flip her off this morning. But he had.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. He'd closed his sketchbook and was looking at her solemnly. His full lips were set in a straight line and his blue eyes looked dull. He didn't look angry, for a change; he looked exhausted.

"I came to check out a book from Special Collections," she said in a wobbly voice. But as she looked around, she quickly realized her mistake. Special Collections wasn't a section of books-it was an open area in the library for an art display about the Civil War. She and Peeta were standing in a tiny art gallery of bronze busts of war heroes, glass cases filled with old promissory notes and Confederate maps. It was the only section of the library where there wasn't a single book to check out.

"Good luck with that," Peeta said, opening up his sketchbook again, as if to say, preemptively, _goodbye._

Katniss was tongue-tied and embarrassed and what she would have liked to do was escape. But then, there were the shadows lurking nearby, and for some reason Katniss felt better about them when she was next to Peeta. It made no sense-like there was anything he could do to protect her from them.

She was stuck, rooted to the spot. He glanced up at her and sighed.

"Let me ask you, do you like being sneaked up on?"

Katniss thought about the shadows and what they were doing to her right now. Without thinking, she shook her head roughly.

"Okay, that makes two of us." He cleared his throat and stared at her, driving home the point that she was the intruder.

Maybe she could explain that she was feeling a little light-headed and just needed to seat down for a minute. She started to say, "Look, can I-"

But Peeta picked up his sketchbook and got to his feet. "I came here to get away," he said, cutting her off. "If you're not going to leave, I will." He shoved his sketchbook into his backpack. When he pushed past, his shoulder brushed hers. Even as brief as the touch was, even through the layers of clothes, Katniss felt static.

For a second, Peeta stood still, too. They turned their heads to look back at each other, and Katniss opened her mouth. But before she could speak, Peeta had turned on his heel and was walking quickly toward the door. Katniss watched as the shadows crept over his head, swirled in a circle, then rushed out the window into the night.

She shivered in the chill of their wake, and for a long time after that, stood in the special collection area, touching her shoulder where Peeta had, feeling the heat cool down.

_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, please R&R! :)**_


	5. Graveyard Shift

_**A/N: I got a second chapter done today so I thought I might as well just post it up :)**_

_**I own nothing. All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Four**

**Graveyard Shift**

Ahhh, Tuesday, _Waffle day._ For as long as Katniss could remember, summer Tuesdays meant fresh coffee, brimming bowls of raspberries and whipped cream, and an unending stack of crispy golden brown waffles. Even this summer, when her parents started acting a little scared of her, waffle day was one thing she could count on. She could roll over in bed on a Tuesday morning, and before she was aware of anything else, she knew instinctively what day it was.

Katniss sniffed, slowly coming to her senses, then sniffed again with a little more gusto. No, there was no buttermilk batter, nothing but the vingegary smell of peeling paint. She rubbed the sleep away and took in her cramped dorm room. It looked like the 'before' shot on a home renovation show. The long nightmare that had been Monday came back to her: the surrender of her cell phone, the meat loaf incident and Glimmer's flashing eyes in the lunchroom, Peeta brushing her off in the library. What it was that made him so spiteful, Katniss didn't have a clue.

She sat up to look out the window. It was still dark, the sun hadn't even peeked over the horizon yet. She never woke up this early. If pressed, she didn't actually think she could remember ever having seen the sunrise. Truthfully, something about sunrise-watching as an activity had always made her nervous. It was the waiting moments, the just-before-the-sun-snapped-over-the-horizon moments, sitting in the darkness, looking out across a tree line. Prime shadow time.

Katniss sighed an aduibly homesick, lonely sigh, which made her even more homesick and lonely. What was she going to do with herself for the three hours between the crack of dawn and her first class? _Crack of dawn-_why did the words ring in her ears? Oh. Crap. She was supposed to be at detention.

She scrambled out of bed, tripping over her still-packed duffel bag, and yanked another boring black sweater out of a stack of black sweaters. She tugged on yesterday's jeans, winced as she caught a glimpse of diastrous bed head, and tried to run her fingers through her hair as she ashed out the door.

She was out of breath when she reached the waist-high, intricately sculpted wrought iron gates of the cemetery. She was choking on the overwhelming smell of skunk cabbage and feeling far too alone with her thoughts. Where was everyone? Was their definition of 'crack of dawn' different from hers? She glanced down at her watch. It was already six-fifteen.

All they'd told her was to meet at the cemetery, and Katniss was pretty sure this was the only entrance. She stood at the threshold, where the gritty asphalt of the parking lot gave way to a mangled lot full of weeds. She spotted a lone dandelion, and it crossed her mind that a younger Katniss would have pounced on it to pick and keep safe.

The delicate gates were all that divided the cemetery from the parking lot. Pretty remarkable for a school with so much barbed wire everywhere else. Katniss ran her hand along the gates, tracing the ornate floral pattern with her fingers. The gates must have dated back to the Civil War days Johanna was talking about, back when the cemetery was used to bury fallen soldiers. When the school attached to it was not a home for wayward psychos. When the whole place was a lot less overgrown and shadowy.

It was strange-the rest of the campus was as flat as a sheet of paper, but somehow, the cemetery had a concave, bowl-like shape. From here, she could see the slope of the whole vast thing before her. Row after row of simple headstones lined the slopes like spectators at an arena.

But toward the middle, at the lowest point of the cemetery, the path through the grounds twisted into a maze of larger carved tombs, marble statues, and mausleums. Probably for Confederate officers, or just the soldiers who came from the money. They looked like they'd be beautiful up close. But from here, the sheer weight of them seemed to drag the cemetery down, almost like the whole place was being swallowed into a drain.

Footsteps behind her. Katniss whirled around to see a black-clad figure emerge from behind a tree. Rue! She had to resist the urge to throw her arms around the girl. Katniss had never been so glad to see anyone-though it was hard to believe Rue ever got detentions.

"Aren't you late?" Rue asked, stopping a few feet in front of Katniss and giving her an amused you-poor-newbie shake of the head.

"I've been here for ten minutes," Katniss said. "Aren't you the one who's late?"

Rue smirked. "No way, I'm just an early riser. I never get detention." She shrugged. "But you do, along with the five other unfortunate souls, who are probably getting angrier by the minute waiting for you down at the monolith." She stood on tiptoe and pointed behind Katniss, toward the largest stone structure, which rose up from the middle of the deepest part of the cemetery. If Katniss squinted, she could just make out a group of black figures clustered around its base.

"They just said meet at the cemetery," Katniss said, already feeling defeated. "No one told me where to go."

"Well, I'm telling you now: monolith. Now get down there," Rue said. "You're not going to make many friends by cutting into their morning any more than you already have."

Katniss gulped. Part of her wanted to ask Rue to show her the way. From up her, it looked like a labyrinth, and she did not want to get lost in the cemetery. Suddenly, she got that nervous, far-away-from-home feeling, and she knew it was only going to get worse.

"Katniss?" Rue said, giving her shoulders a bit of a shove. "You're still standing here."

Katniss tried to give Rue a brave thank-you smile, but had to settle for an akward facial twitch. Then she hurried down the slope into the heart of the cemetery. The sun still hadn't risen, but it was getting closer, and these last few predawn moments were always the ones that creeped her out the most. She tore past the rows of plain headstones. At one point they must have been upright, but by now they were so old that most of them tipped over to one side or the other, giving the whole place the look of a set of morbid dominoes.

She slopped in her black Converse sneakers through the puddles of mud, crucnhed over dead leaves. By the time she'd cleared the section of simple plots and made it to the more ornate tombs, the ground had more or less flattened out, and she was totally lost. She stopped running, tried to catch her breath. Voices. If she calmed down, she could hear voices.

"Five more minutes and I'm out," a guy said.

"Too bad your opinion has no value Mr. Odair." An ornery voice Katniss recognized from her classes yesterday. Ms. Paylor. After the meat loaf incident, Katniss had shown up late to her class and hadn't exactly made the most favourable impression on the dour, spherical science teacher. "Unless anyone wants to loss his or her priviate privilleges this week"-groans from among the tombs-"we will wait patiently, as if we had nothing better to do, until Miss. Everdeen decides to grace us with her presence."

"I'm here," Katniss gasped, finally rounding a giant statue of a cherub.

Ms. Paylor stood with her hands on her hips, wearing a variation of yesterday's loose black muumuu. Biology had always been tough for Katniss, and so far, she wasn't doing her grade in Ms. Paylor's class any favours.

Behind Paylor were Johanna, Glimmer, and Finnick, scattered around a circle of plinths that all faced a large centeral statue of an angel. Compared to the rest of the statues, this one seemed newer, whiter, grander. And leaning up against the angel's sculpted thigh-she almost hadn't noticed-was Peeta.

He was wearing the busted black leather jacket and the bright red scarf she'd fixated on yesterday. Katniss took in his messy blond hair, which looked like it hadn't yet been smoothed down after sleep . . . which made her think about what Peeta might look like when he was sleeping . . . which made her blush so intensely that by the time her eyes made their way down from his hairline to his eyes, she was thoroughly humiliated.

By then he was glaring at her.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I didn't know where we were supposed to meet. I swear-"

"Save it," Ms. Paylor said, dragging her finger across her throat. "You've enough of everyone's time. Now, I'm sure you all remember whatever despicable indiscretion you comitted to find yourself here. You can think about that for the next two hours while you work. Pair up. You know the drill." She glanced at Katniss and let out her breath. "Okay, who wants a protegee?"

To Katniss' horror, all of the other students looked at their feet. But then, after a torturous minute, a fifth student stepped around the corner of the mausoleum.

"I do."

Gale. His black V-neck T-shirt fit close around his broad shoulders. He stood almost a foot taller than Finnick, who stood aside as Gale pushed past and walked toward Katniss. His eyes were glued to her as he strode forward, moving smoothly and confidently, as at ease in his reform school garb as Katniss was ill at ease. Part of her wanted to avert her eyes, because it was embarrassing the way Gale was staring at her in front of everyone. But for some reason, she was mesmerized. She couldn't break his gaze-until Johanna stepped between them.

"Dibs," she said. "I called dibs."

"No you didn't," Gale said.

"Yes, I did, you just didn't hear me from your weird arch back there." The words rushed out of Johanna. "I want her."

"I-" Gale started to respond.

Johanna cocked her head expectantly. Katniss swallowed. Was he going to come out and say _he_ wanted her, too? Couldn't they just forget about it? Serve detention in a group of three?

Gale patted Katniss' arm. "I'll catch up with you after, okay?" he said to her, like it was a promise she'd asked him to keep.

The other kids hopped off tombs they'd been sitting on and trooped toward a shed. Katniss followed, clinging to Johanna, who wordlessly handed her a rake. "So. Do you want the avenging angel, or the fleshly embracing lovers?"

There was no mention of yesterday's events, or of Johanna's note, and Katniss somehow didn't feel she should bring anything up with her now. Instead, she glanced overhead to find herself flanked by two giant statues. The one closer to her looked like Rodin. A nude man and woman stood tangled in an embrace. She'd studied French sculpture back at Hunger High, and always thought Rodins were the most romantic pieces. But now it was hard to look at the embracing lovers without thinking of Peeta. _Peeta_. Who hated her. If she needed any further proof of that after he'd basically bolted from the library last night, all she had to do was think back to the fresh glare she'd gotten from him this morning.

"Where's the avenging angel?" she asked Johanna with a sigh.

"Good choice. Over here." Johanna led Katniss to a massive marble sculpture of an angel saving the ground from the stroke of a thunderbolt. It might have been an interesting piece, back in the day when it was fist carved. But now it just looked old and dirty, covered in mud and green moss.

"I don't get it," Katniss said. "What do we do?"

"Scrub-a-dub-dub," Johanna said, almost singing. "I like to pretend I'm giving them a little bath." With that, she scrambled up on the giant angel, swinging her legs over the giant angel, singing her legs over the statue's thunderbolt-thwarting arm, as if the whole thing were a sturdy oak tree for her to climb.

Terrified of looking like she was asking for more trouble from Ms. Paylor, Katniss started working her rake across the base of the statue. She tried to clear away what seemed like the base of an endless pile of damp leaves.

Three minutes later, her arms were _killing_ her. She definetly hadn't dressed for this kind of muddy manual labour. Katniss had never been sent to detention at Hunger High, but from what she'd overheard, it consisted of filling a piece of paper with 'I will not plagiarize off the internet' a few hundred times.

This was brutal. Especially when all she'd really done was accidentally bump into Glimmer in the lunchroom. She was trying to not make snap judgements here, but clearing mud from the graves of the people who'd been dead over a century?

Then a tease of sunlight finally flitted through the trees, and suddenly there was colour in the graveyard. Katniss felt instantly lighter. She could see Peeta . . . working side by side with Glimmer. Katniss' heart sank. The airy feeling disappeared. She looked at Johanna, who shot her this-blows empathy glance but kept working.

"Hey," Katniss whispered loudly. Johanna put her finger to her lip before motioning for Katniss to climb up next to her. With grace and agility, Katniss grabbed the statue's arm and swung herself up onto the plinth. Once she was fairly certain that she wasn't going to tumble to the ground, she whispered, "So . . . Peeta's friends with Glimmer?"

Johanna snorted. "No way, the totally hate each other," she said quickly, then paused. "Why d'you ask?"

Katniss pointed at the two of them, doing no work whatsoever to clear brush from their tomb. They were standing close to each other, leaning on their rakes and having a conversation that Katniss desperately wished she could hear. "They look like friends to me."

"It's detention," Johanna said flatly. "You have to pair up. Do you think Finnick and Chester the Molester are friends?" She pointed at Finnick and Gale. They seemed to be arguing about the best way to divvy up their work on the lover's statue. "Detention buddies does _not_ equal real-life buddies." Johanna looked back at Katniss, who could feel her face falling, despite her best efforts to appear unfazed. "Look, Katniss, I didn't mean . . ." She trailed off. "Okay, aside from the face you made me waste a good twenty minutes of my morning, I have no problem with you. In fact, you're sort of interesting. Kinda fresh. That said, I don't know what you were expecting in terms of mushy-gushy friendship here at Capitol Cross. But let me be the first to tell you, it ain't that easy. People are here because they've got baggage. I'm talking curbside-check-in, pay-the-fine-'cause'-it's-over-fifty-pounds kind of baggage. Get it?"

Katniss shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "It was just a question."

Johanna snickered. "Are you always so defensive? What the hell did you do to get in here, anyway?"

Katniss didn't feel like talking about it. Maybe Johanna was right, she'd be better off not trying to make friends. She hopped down and went back to attacking the moss at the base of the statue. Unfortunately, Johanna was intrigued. She hopped down too, and brought her rake down on top of Katniss' to pin it in place.

"Ooh, tell me tell me tell me," she taunted. Johanna's face was so close to Katniss'. It reminded her of yesterday, crouching over her after she'd convulsed. They'd had a moment hadn't they? And part of Katniss badly wanted to be able to talk to someone. It had been such a long, stifling with her parents. She sighed, resting her forehead on the handle of her rake. A salty, nervous taste filled her mouth, but she couldn't swallow it away. The last time she'd gone into these details, it had been because of a court order. She would just as soon have forgotten them, but the way Johanna stared her down, the clearer the words grew and the closer they came to the tip of her tongue.

"I was with a friend one night," she started to explain, taking a long, deep breath. "And something terrible happened." She closed her eyes, praying that the scene wouldn't play out in a burst under the red-black of her closed eyelids. "There was a fire. I made it out . . . and he didn't."

Johanna yawned, musch less horrified by the story than Katniss was.

"Anyway," Katniss went on, "afterwards, I couldn't remember the details. How it happened. What I could remember-what I told the judge anyway-I guess they thought I was crazy." She tried to smile, but it felt forced. To her suprise, Johanna squeezed her shoulder. And for a second, her face looked really sincere. Then it changed back into its smirk.

"We're all _so_ misunderstood, aren't we?" She poked Katniss in the gut with her fingers. "You know, Finnick and I were just talking about how we don't have any pyromaniac friends. And everyone knows you need a good pyro to pull of any reform school prank worth the effort." She was scheming already. "Finnick thought maybe the other new kid, Blight, but I'd rather cast my lot with you. We should collaborate sometime."

Katniss swallowed hard. She wasn't a pyro. But she was done talking about her past; she didn't even feel like defending herself.

"Ooh, wait until Finnick hears," Johanna said, throwing down her rake. "You're like our dream come true." Katniss opened her mouth to protest, but Johanna had already taken off. _Perfect,_ Katniss thought, listening to the sound Johanna's shoes squishing through the the mud. Now it was only a matter of minutes before word travelled around the cemetery to Peeta.

Alone again, she looked up at the statue. Even though she'd already cleared a huge pile of moss and mulch, the angel looked dirtier than ever. The whole project felt so pointless. She doubted anyone ever came to visit this place anyway. She also doubted that any of the other detainees were still working.

Her eye just happened to fall on Peeta, who _was_ woking. He was very diligently using a wire brush to scrub some mold off the bronze inscription on a tomb. He'd even pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, and Katniss could see his muscles straining as he went at it. She sighed, and-she couldn't help it-leaned her albow against the stone angel to watch him.

_He's always been such a hard worker._

Katniss shook her head. Where had that come from? She had no idea what it meant. And yet, she'd been the one who'd thought it. It was the kind of phrase that sometimes formed in her mind just before she drifted into sleep. Senseless babble she could never assign to anything outside her dreams. But here she was, wide-awake.

She needed to get a handle on the Peeta thing. She'd known him for one day, and already, she could feel herself slipping into a very sstrange and unfamiliar place.

"Probably best to stay away from him," a cold voice said behind her. Katniss whipped around to find Glimmer, in the same pose she'd found her in yesterday: hands on her hips, nostrils flaring.

"Who?" she asked Glimmer, knowing she sounded stupid.

Glimmer rolled her eyes. "Just trust me when I tell you that falling for Peeta would be a very, very bad idea."

Before Katniss could answer, Glimmer was gone. But Peeta-it was almost as if he'd heard his name-was looking straight at her. Then _walking_ straight at her.

She knew the sun had gone behind a cloud. If she could break his stare, she could look up and see it for herself. But she couldn't look up, she couldn't look away, and for some reason, she had to squint to see him. Almost like Peeta was creating his own light, like he was blinding her. A hollow ringing noise filled up her ears, and her knees began to tremble.

She wanted to pick up her rake and pretend she didn't see him coming. But it was too late to play it cool.

"What'd she say to you?" he asked.

"Um," she hedged, racking her brain for a sensible lie. Finding nothing. She cracked her knuckles.

Peeta cupped his hand over hers. "I hate it when you do that."

Katniss jerked away instinctively. His hand on hers had been so fleeting, yet she felt her face flush. He meant it as a pet peeve of his, that knuckle cracking from _anyone_ would bother him, right? Because to say that he hated it when _she_ did it implied that he'd seen her do it before. And he couldn't have. He barely knew her.

Then why did this feel like a fight they'd had before?

"Glimmer told me to stay away from you," she said finally.

Peeta tilted his head from side to side, seeming to consider this. "She's probably right."

Katniss shivered. A shadow drifted over them, darkening the angel's face just long enough for Katniss to worry. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe, praying Peeta couldn't tell anything was strange.

Peeta followed her gaze toward the sky. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"So are you going to do it?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. A dare.

"What?" she said. _Run?_

Peeta took a step toward her. He was now less than a foot away. She held her breath. She kept her body completely still. She waited.

"Are you going to stay away from me?"

It almost sounded like he was flirting.

But Katniss was completely out of sorts. Her brow was damp with sweat, and she squeezed her temples between two fingers, trying to regain possession of her body, trying to take it back from his control. She was totally unprepared to flirt back. That was, if what he was doing was actually flirting.

She took a step back. "I guess so."

"Didn't hear you," he whispered, cocking an eyebrow and taking another step closer.

Katniss backed up again, farther this time. She practically slammed intot he base of the statue, and could feel the gritty stone foot of the angel scraping her back. A second, darker, colder shadow whoosed over them. She could have sworn Peeta shivered with her.

And then a deep groan of something heavy startled them both. Katniss gasped as the top of the marble statue teetered over them, like a tree branch swaying in the breeze. For a second, it seemed to hover in the air.

Katniss and Peeta stood staring at the angel. Both of them knew it was on its way down. The angel's head bowed slowly toward them, like it was praying-and then the whole statue picked up speed as it started hurtling down. Katniss felt Peeta's hand wrap around her waist instantly, tightly, like he knew exactly where she began and where she ended. His other hand covered her head and forced her down just as the statue toppled over them. Right where they'd been standing. It landed with a massive crash-headfirst in the mud, with its feet still resting on the plinth, leaving a little triangle underneath, where Peeta and Katniss crouched.

They were panting, nose to nose, Peeta's eyes scared. Between their bodies and the statue, there was only a few inches of space.

"Katniss?" he whispered.

All she could do was nod.

His eyes narrowed. "What did you see?"

Then a hand appeared and Katniss felt herself being pulled out of the space under the statue. There was a scraping against her back and then a waft of air. She saw the flicker of daylight again. The detention crew stood gaping, except for Ms. Paylor, who was glaring, and Gale, who helped Katniss to her feet.

"Are you okay?" Gale asked, running his eyes over her for scrapes and bruises, brushing dirt from her shoulder. "I saw the statue coming down and I over to try and stop it, but it was already . . . You must have been so terrified."

Katniss didn't respond. Terrified was only part of what she'd felt.

Peeta, already on his feet, didn't even turn around to see whether she was okay or not. He just walked away. Katniss' jaw dropped as she watched him go, as she watched everyone else seem not to care that he had bailed.

"What did you do?" Ms. Paylor asked.

"I don't know. One minute, we were standing there"-Katniss glanced at Ms. Paylor-"um, working. The next thing I knew, the statue just fell over."

Paylor bent down to examine the shattered angel. Its head had cracked straight down the middle. She started muttering something about forces of nature and old stones.

But it was the voice at Katniss' ear that stayed with her, even after everyone else had gone back to work. It was Glimmer, just inches behind her shoulder, who whispered:

"Looks like someone should start listening when I give advice."

_**A/N: Ooooh, confused yet? If so, don't panic. I was when I reached this part in the series. Seriously though, stick with it. It's worth the confusion, I swear.**_

_**If you read and like this, don't be afraid to drop off a little reivew. Please and thanks ^_^**_


	6. The Inner Circle

_**A/N: Here's chapter five folks! School again tomorrow so I don't know about the daily updates but I'll do my best :)**_

_**All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Five**

**The inner circle**

"Don't ever scare me like that again!" Madge reprimanded Katniss on Wednesday evening.

It was just before sundown and Katniss was folded into the Capitol Cross cubby, a tiny biege confine in the middle of the office area. It was far from private, but at least no one else was loafing around. Her arms were still sore from the graveyard shift during yesterday's detention, her pride still wounded from Peeta's fleeing the second they'd been pulled out under the statue. But for fifteen minutes, Katniss was trying to push all that out of her mind, to soak up every single frantic word from her best friend that she could spit out in the time space. It felt so good to hear Madge's high pitched voice, Katniss almost didn't care that she was being yelled at.

"We promised we wouldn't go an _hour_ without speaking," Madge continued accusingly. "I thought someone had eaten you alive! Or that maybe they took you in solitary in one of those straitjackets where you have to chew through your sleeve to scratch your face. For all I knew, you could have descended into the ninth circle of-"

"Okay _mom_," Katniss said, laughing and settling into her role as Madge's breathing instructor. "Relax." For a split second, she felt guilty that she hadn't used her one phone call to dial up her real mom. But she knew Madge would wig out if she ever discovered that she hadn't seized her very first oppurtunity to get in touch. And in a weird way, it was always soothing to hear Madge's hysterical voice. It was one of the many reason the two were such a good fit: Her best friend's over the top paranoia actually had a calming effect on Katniss. She could just picture Madge in her dorm room at Hunger High, pacing her bright orange area rugh, with Oxy smeared over her t-zone and pedicure foam seperating her still-wet fuchisa toenails.

"Don't _mom_ me!" Madge huffed. "Start talking. What are the other kids like? Are they all scary and popping diuretics like in the movies? What about you classes? How's the food?"

Through the phone, Katniss could hear _Roman Holiday_ playing in the background on Madge's tiny t.v. Katniss' favourite scene was when Audrey Hepburn woke up in Gregory Peck's room, still convinced the night before had all been a dream. Katniss closed her eyes and tried to picture the shot in her mind. Mimicking Audrey's drowsy whiser, she quoted the line she knew Madge would recognize.

"There was a man, he was so _mean_ to me. It was_ wonderful._"

"Okay, Princess, it's your life I want to hear about," Madge teased.

Unfortunately, there was nothing about Capitol Cross that Katniss would even consider describing as wonderful. Thinking about Peeta for, oh, the eightieth time that day, she realized that the only parallel between her life and _Roman Holiday_ was that she and Audrey both had a guy who was aggressively rude and uninterested in them. Katniss rested her head against the biege linoleum of the cubby walls. Someone had carved the words BIDING MY TIME. Under normal circumstances, this would be when Katniss would spill everything about Peeta to Madge.

Except, for some reason, she didn't.

Whatever she might want to say about Peeta wouldn't be based on anything that had actually happened between them. And Madge was big on guys making an effort to show they were worthy of you. She'd want to hear things like how many times he'd held open a door for Katniss, when he'd noticed how good her French accent was. Madge didn't think there was anything wrong with guys writing the kind of sappy poems Katniss could _never_ take seriously. She would come up severely short on things to say about Peeta. In fact, Madge'd be more interested in hearing about someone like Gale.

"Well, there _is_ this one guy here," Katniss whispered into the phone.

"I knew it!" Madge squealed. "Name."

Peeta. _Peeta._ Katniss cleared her throat. "Gale."

"Direct, uncomplicated. I can dig it. Start from the beginning."

"Well, nothing's really happened yet."

"He thinks you're gorgeous, blah blah blah. I told you the cropped cut made you look like Audrey. Get to the good stuff."

"Well-" Katniss broke off. The sound of footsteps in the lobby silenced her. She leaned out the side of the cubby and craned her neck to see who was interuppting the best fifteen minuted she'd had in three whole days.

Gale was walking toward her.

Speak of the devil. She swallowed the horrifically lame words on the tip of her tongue: _He gave me his guitar pick._ She still had it tucked in her pocket. Gale's demeanor was casual, as if by some stroke of luck he hadn't heard what she'd been saying. He seemed to be the only kid at Capitol Cross who didn't change out of his school uniform the minute classes were over. But the black-on-black look worked for him, just as much as it worked to made Katniss look like a grocery store check out girl.

Gale was twirling a golden pocket watch that swung from a long chain looped around his index finger. Katniss followed its bright arch for a moment, almost mesmerized, until Gale clapped the face of the watch to a stop it in his fist. He looked down at it, then up at her.

"Sorry." His lips pursed in confusion. "I thought I signed up for the seven o'clock phone call." He shrugged. "But I must have written it down wrong."

Katniss' heart sank when she glanced down at her own watch. She and Madge had barely said fifteen words to each other-how could fifteen minutes be already up?

"Katniss? Hello?" Madge sounded impaitent on the other end of the phone. "You're being weird. Is there something you're not telling me? Have you replaced me already with some reform school cutter? What about the boy?"

"Sssh," Katniss hissed into the phone. "Gale, wait," she called, hlding the phone away from her mouth. He was already halfway out the door. "Just a second, I was-" she swallowed-"I was just getting off."

Gale slipped the pocket watch into the front of his black blazer and doubled back toward Katniss. He raised his eyebrows and laughed when he heard Madge's voice growing louder from the earpiece. "Don't you dare hang up on me!" Madge protested. "You've me nothing! _Nothing!"_

"I don't want to piss anyone off," Gale joked, gesturing to the barking telephone. "Take my slot, you can get me back another time."

"No," Katniss said quickly. As badly as she wanted to keep talking to Madge, she imagined Gale probably felt the same way about whoever he'd come here to call. And unlike a lot of people at this school, he had been nothing but nice to her. She didn't want to make him give up his turn at the telephone, especially now, when she'd be way too nervous to gossip with Madge about him.

"Madge," she said, sighing into the phone. "I gotta go. I'll call again as soon as-" But by then there was just the vague buzz of the dial tone. The phone itself had been rigged to cap each call at fifteen minutes. Now she saw the tiny timer blinking 0:00 on its base. They hadn't even gotten to say goodbye and now she'd have to wait another whole week to call. Time stretched out in Katniss' mind like an endless gulf.

"BFF?" Gale asked, leaning up against the cubby next to Katniss. His dark eyebrows were still arched. "I've got a younger sister, I can practically smell the best friend vibe through the phone." He bent forward as if he was going to sniff Katniss, which made her chuckle . . . and then freeze. His unexpected closeness had made her heart pick up.

"Let me guess." Gale straightened back up and lifted his chin. "She wanted to know _all_ about the reform school bad boys?"

"No!" Katniss shook her head to deny vehemently that guys were on her mind at all . . . until she realized that Gale was only kidding. She blushed and took a stab at joking back. "I mean, I told her there's not a single good one here."

Gale blinked. "Precisely what makes it so exciting. Don't ya think?" He had a way of standing very still, which made Katniss stand very still, which made the ticking sound of his pocket watch inside his blazer seem louder than it probably could have been.

Frozen next to Gale, Katniss suddenly shivered as something black swooped into the hall. The shadow seemed to hopscotch across the panels in the ceiling in a very deliberate way, blacking out one and then the next and then the next. Damn. It was never good to be alone with someone-especially someone as focused on her as Gale was at the moment-when the shadows arrived. She could feel herself twitching, trying to appear calm as the darkness swirled around the ceiling fan in a dance. That alone was making worst of its terrible noises, a sound like the one Katniss had heard when she'd watched a baby owl fall from its palmetto tree and choke to death. She wished Gale would just stop look at her. She wished something would happen to divert his attention. She wished-

That Peeta Mellark would walk in.

And he did. Saved by the gorgeous boy wearing holey jeans and a holier white T-shirt. He didn't looked much like salvation-slouched over his heavy stack of library books, grey bags under his blue eyes. Peeta actually looked kind of wrecked. His blond hair drooped over his eyes, and when they settled on Katniss and Gale, she watched them narrow. She was so busy fretting over what she'd done to annoy Peeta this time, she almost didn't realize the momentous thing that happened: The second before the lobby door closed behind him, the shadow slipped through it and into the night. It was like someone had taken a vacuum and cleared out all the grit from the hall.

Peeta just nodded in their direction and didn't slow down as he passed.

When Katniss looked at Gale, he was watching Peeta. He turned to Katniss and said, more loudly than he needed to, "I almost forgot to tell you. Having a little party in my room tonight after Social. I'd love for you to come." Peeta was within earshot. Katniss had no idea what this social thing was, but she was supposed to meet Rue beforehand. They were supposed to walk over together.

Her eyes were fixed on the back of Peeta's head, and she knew she needed to answer Gale about his party, and it really shouldn't be so hard, but when Peeta turned around and looked back at her with eyes she swore were mournful, the phone behind her started ringing and Gale reached for it and said, "I've got to take this, Katniss. You'll be there?"

Almost imperceptibly, Peeta nodded.

"Yes," Katniss told Gale. "Yes."

~xXx~

"I still don't see why we have to run," Katniss was panting twenty minutes later. She was trying to keep up with Rue as they scrambled back across the commons toward the auditorium for the mysterious Wednesday Night Social, which Rue still hadn't explained. Katniss had barely enough time to make it upstairs to her room, to stick on some lip gloss and better jeans just in case it was _that_ kind of social. She was still trying to slow her breath down from her run-in with Gale and Peeta when Rue barged into her room to drag her back out.

"People who are chronically tardy never understand the many ways in which they screw up the schedules of people who are punctual and _normal_," Rue told her as they splashed through a particularly soggy portion of the lawn.

"Ha!" A laugh erupted behind them.

Katniss looked back and felt her face light up when she saw Johanna's pale, skinny frame jogging up to catch up with them. "Which quack said you were normal Rue?" Johanna nudged Katniss and pointed down. "Watch out for the quicksand!"

Katniss sloshed to a halt just before she'd stepped into a scarily muddy patch on the lawn. "Somebody please tell me where we're going!"

"Wednesday night," Rue said flatly. "Social Night."

"Like . . . a dance or something?" Katniss asked, visions of Peeta and Gale already moving across the dancefloor in her mind.

Johanna hooted. "A dance with death by boredom. The term 'social' is typical Capitol Cross doublespeak. See, they're required to schedule social events for us, but they are so terrified of scheduling social events for us. Sticky predicky."

"So instead," Rue added, "They have these really awful event like move nights followed by lectures about the movie, or-God, do you remember last semester?"

"There was that whole symposium on taxisdermy?"

"So, so creepy," Rue shoook her head.

"Tonight, my dear," Johanna drawled, "We get off easy. All we have to do is snore through one of the three movies on rotation in the Capitol Cross video library. Which one do you think it is tonight, Ruelabelle? _Starman? Joe versus the Volcano? _Or_ Weekned at Bernie's?"_

"It's _Starman_," Rue groaned.

Johanna shot Katniss a baffled look. "She knows _everything."_

"Hold on," Katniss said, tripping around the quicksand and lowering her voice to a whisper as they approached the front office of the school. "If you've all seen these movies so many times, why the rush to get there?"

Rue pulled open the heavy metal doors to the 'auditorium' which, Katniss realized, was a euphemisum for a regular room to face a blank white wall.

"Don't want to get stuck in the hot seat next to Abernathy," Johanna explained, pointing at the very teacher. He looked skunked out, his head hanging over the back of the seat and his body limp in the chair.

As the three girls stepped through the metal detector at the door, Rue said, "Whoever there has to help pass out his weekly 'mental health' surveys because he can't be bothered to do it himself."

"Which wouldn't be so bad-" Johanna chimed in.

"-if you didn't have to stay late to analyze the findings whole he goes and gets hammered," Rue finished.

"Thereby missing," Johanna said with a grin, steering Katniss toward the second row as she whispered, "the _after-party."_

Finally they had gotten down to the heart of the matter. Katniss chuckled. "I heard about that," she said, feeling slightly with it for a change. "It's in Gale's room, right?"

Johanna looked at Katniss for a second and ran her tongue across her teeth. Then she looked past, almost through her. "Hey Blight," she called, waving with just the tips of her fingers. She pushed Katniss into one seat, claimed the safe spot next to her (still two seats from Mr. Abernathy) and patted the hot seat. "Come sit with me, B-man!"

Blight, who'd been shifting his weight in the doorway, looked immensely relieved to be given the directive, any directive. He started toward them, swallowing. No sooner had he fumbled into the seat beside Mr. Abernathy than he'd lifted his head from the chair and said, "Here son, I'm glad you're here. I need you to do me a favor after the film . . ."

"Mean!" Rue popped her head up between Johanna and Katniss. Johanna shrugged and produced a giant bag of popcorn from her carpetbag.

"I can only look after so many new students," she said, tossing a buttery kernel at Katniss. "Lucky you."

As the lights in the room dimmed, Katniss looked around until her eyes landed on Gale. She thought about ber abbreviated dish session on the phone with Madge, and how her friend always said that watching a movie with a guy was the best way to get to know things about him, things that might not come out in a conversation. Looking at Gale, Katniss thought she knew what Madge meant: There would be something thrilling about glancing out of the corner of her eye to see what jokes Gale thought were funny, to join his laughter with her own.

When his eyes met hers, Katniss felt embarrassed and had the instinct to look away. But then, before she could, Gale's face broke into a broad smile. It made her feel remarkably unabashed about being caught staring. When he put his hand up in a wave, Katniss couldn't help thinking about how the exact oppisote happened the few times Peeta had caught her looking at him.

Peeta rolled in with Finnick, late enough that Alma had already taken a head count, late enough that the only remaing seats were on the floor at the front of the room. He passed through the beam of light from the projector and Katniss noticed the silver chain around his neck, and some sort of medallion tucked inside his T-shirt. Then he dipped completely out of her view. She couldn't even see his profile.

As it turned out, _Starman_ wasn't very finny, but the other students' constant Jeff Bridges impersonations were. It was hard for Katniss to stay focused on the plot. Plus, she was getting that uncomforable icy feeling at the back of her neck. Something was about to happen. When the shadows came this time, Katniss was expecting them. Then she started to think about it and counted a tally on her fingers. The shadows had been popping up at an increasinly alarming rate, and Katniss couldn't figure out whether she was nervous at Capitol Cross . . . or whether it meant something else. They'd never been this bad before . . .

They oozed overhead in the auditorium, then slithered along the sides of the movie screen, and finally traced the lines of the floorboards like spilled ink. Katniss gripped the bottom of her chair and felt an ache of fear swell through her legs and arms. She tightened all the muscles in her body, but she couldn't keep from trembling. A squeeze on her left knee made her look over at Johanna.

"You okay?" she mouthed.

Katniss nodded and hugged her shoulders, pretending to be merely cold. She wished she was, but this particular chill had nothing to do with Capitol Cross's overzealous air conditioner. She could feel the shadows tugging her feet under her chair. They stayed like that, deadweight for the whole move, and every minute dragged on like an eternity.

~xXx~

An hour later, Johanna pressed her eye up against the peephole of Gale's bronze-painted dorm room door. "Yoo-hoo!" she sang, giggling. "The festivities are here!" She produced a hot pink feather boa from the same magic carpetbag the bag of popcorn had come from. "Give me a boost."

Katniss hooked her fingers together and postioned them under Johanna's black boot. She watched as Johanna pushed off the ground and used the boa to cover the face of the hallway surveillance camera while she reached around the back of the device and switched it off.

"That's not suspicous or anything," Rue said.

"Does your allegiance lie with the after-party?" Johanna shot back. "Or the red party?"

"I'm just saying there are smarter ways," Rue snorted as Johanna hopped down. Johanna slung the boa down and around Katniss' shoulders, and Katniss laughed and started to shimmy to the Motown song they could hear through the door. But when she offered the boa to Rue for a turn, she was surprised to see her friend still looking nervous. Rue was biting her nails and sweating at the brow. She wore six sweaters under the swampy Septermber heat-she was never hot.

"What's wrong?" Katniss whispered, leaning in.

Rue picked at the hem of her sleeve and shrugged. She looked like she was just about to answer when the door behind them opened up. A whoosh of cigarette smoke, blasting music, and suddenly Gale's open arms greeted them.

"You made it," he said, smiling at Katniss. Even in the dim light, his lips had a berry-stained glow. When he folded her in for a hug, she felt tiny and safe. It lasted only a second; then he turned to nod hello at the other two girls, and Katniss felt a little proud to have been the only one who got a hug.

Behind Gale, the small, dark room was crammed with people. Finnick was in one corner, at the turntable holding up the records to a black. The couple Katniss had seen on the quad a few days before cozied up against the window. The preppy boys with the white oxford shirts were all huddled together, occasionaly checking out the girls. Johanna wasted no time shooting across the room toward Gale's desk, whick looked like it was doubling as a bar. Almost immediately, she had a champagne bottle between her legs and was laughing as she tried to pry off the cork.

Katniss was baffled. She hadn't even known how to get booze at Hunger High, where the outside world had been a lot less off-limits. Gale had been back at Capitol Cross for only a few days, but already, he seemed to know how to smuggle everything he needed to throw a Dionysian soiree the entire school showed up to. And somehow everyone else inside thought this was normal.

Still standing at the threshold, she head the pop, then the cheers from the rest of the crowd, then Johanna's voice was calling out: "Katnisssss, get in here. I'm about to make a toast!"

Katniss could feel the party's magnestism, but Rue looked must less ready to budge.

"You can go ahead," she said, waving a hand at Katniss.

"What's wrong? You don't want to go in?" The truth was, Katniss was a little nervous herself. She had no idea what might go down at these things, and since she still wasn't sure how reliable Johanna was, it was definetly made her feel better to have Rue by her side.

But Rue frowned. "I'm . . . I'm out of my element. I do libraries . . . workshops on how to use PowerPoint. You want a file hacked into, I'm your girl, but this-" She tood on tiptoes and peered into the room. "I don't know. People in there just think I'm some kind of know it all."

Katniss attempted her best give-me-a-break frown. "And they think _I'm_ a slab of meat loaf, and _we_ think _they're_ totally bananas." She laughed. "Can't we all just get along?"

Slowly Rue curled her lip, then took the feather boad and draped it round her shoulders. "Oh, all right," she said, clomping in ahead of Katniss.

Katniss blinked as her eyes adjusted. A cacophony filled the room, but she could hear Johanna's laughing voice. Gale shut the door behind her and tugged her hand so she'd hang back, away from the heart of the party. "I'm really glad you came," he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and bending his head so she could hear him in the loud room. Those lips looked amost tasty, especially when they said things like, "I jumped up every time someone knocked, hoping it'd be you."

Whatever had drawn Gale to her so quickly, Katniss didn't want to do anything to mess it up. He was popular and unexpectedly thoughtful, and his attention made her feel more flattered. It made her feel more comfortable in this strange new place. She knew if she tried to respond to his compliment, she'd stumble over the words. So she just laughed, which made him laugh, and then he pulled her in for another hug.

Suddenly there was no place to her own hands but around his neck. She felt a little light headed as Gale squeezed her, lifting her feet slightly off the ground.

When he put her back down, Katniss turned to the rest of the party, and the first thing she saw was Peeta. But she didn't think he liked Gale. Still, he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his white T-shirt glowing violet in the black light. As soon as her eyes found him, it was hard to look anywhere else. Which didn't made sense, because a gorgeous and friendly guy was standing right behind her, asking what she'd like to drink. The other gorgeous, infinitely less friendly guy sitting across from her should not be the one she couldn't stop looking at. And he was staring at her. _So_ intently, with a cryptic, squinting look in his eyes that Katniss thought she'd never decode, even if she saw it a thousand times.

All she knew was the effect it had on her. Everyone else in the room went out of focus and she melted. She could have stared back all night if it hadn't been for Johanna, who had climbed on top of the desk and called out to Katniss, her glass raised in the air.

"To Katniss!" she toasted, giving her a saintly smile. "Who was obviously zoning and missed my entire welcome speech and who will _never_ know how utterly fabulous it was-wasn't it fabulous, Finn?" she leaned down to ask Finnick, who patted her ankle affirmatively.

Gale slipped a plastic cup of champagne into Katniss' hand. She blushed and tried to laugh it off as the rest of the party echoed, "To Katniss! To Meat Loaf!"

At her side, Glimmer slithered up and whispered a shorter version in her ear: "To Katniss, who will _never_ know."

A few days before, Katniss would have flinched away. Tonight, she simply rolled her eyes, then turned her back on Glimmer. The girl had never said a word that didn't leave Katniss feeling bitten, but showing it seemed only to egg her on. So Katniss just hunkered down to share the desk chair with Rue, who handed her a rope of black licorice.

"Can you belive it? I'm actually have having fun," Rue said, chewing happily.

Katniss bit down on the licorice and took a tiny sip of the fizzy champagne. Not a very palatable combination. Kind of like her and Glimmer. "So is Glimmer that evil to everyone, or am I a special case?"

For a second Rue looked like she was going to give a different answer, but then she patted Katniss on the back. "Just her actual demeanor, my dear."

Katniss looked around the room at all the free-flowing champagne, at Gale's fancy vintage turntable, at the disco ball spinning over their heads, casting stars on everyone's faces. "Where do they get all this stuff?" she wondered aloud.

"People say Finnick can smuggle anything into Capitol Cross," Rue said matter of factly. "Not that I've every asked him."

Maybe this was what Johanna meant when she said Finnick knew how to get things. The only off-limits item Katniss could imagine wanting badly enough to ask for was phone. But then . . . Gale had said not to listen to Johanna about the inner workings of the school. Which would have been fine, except so much of his party seemed to be courtesy of Finnick. The more she tried to untangle her questions, the less things added up. She should probably stick to being 'in' enough to get invited to the parties.

"Okay, all you rejects," Finnick said loudly to get everyone's attention. The record play had quieted down to static between songs. "We're going to start the open-mike portion of the night, and I'm taking requests for karaoke!"

"Peeta Mellark!" Johanna hooted through her hands.

"No!" Peeta hooted back without missing a beat.

"Aw, the silent Mellark sits another one out," Finnick said into the microphone. "You sure you don't want to do your version of 'Hellhound on My Trail'?"

"I believe that's _your_ song Finnick," Peeta said. A faint smile spread across his lips, but Katniss got the feeling it was an embarrassed smile, a someone-else-take-the-spotlight-off-me-please smile.

"He's got a point folks," Finnick laughed. "Though karaoke-ing Robert Johnson has been known to clear out a room." He plucked an R.L Burnside album from the stack and cued the record player in the corner. "Let's go down south instead."

As the bass notes of an electric guitar picked up, Finnick took center stage, which was really just a few square feet of moonlit empty space in the middle of the room. Everyone else was clapping or stomping their feet in time, but Peeta was looking down at his watch. She kept seeing the image of him nodding at her in the lobby earlier that night, when Gale invited her to the party. Like Peeta wanted her there for some reason. Of course, now that she'd shown up, he made no move to acknowledge her existence.

If only she could get him alone . . .

Finnick monopolized the attention of the guests so well that only Katniss noticed when, midway through the song, Peeta stood up, edged himself around Glimmer and Gale, and slipped silently out the door. This was her chance. While everyone around her was applauding, Katniss slowly got to her feet.

"Encore!" Johanna called out. Then, noticing Katniss rising from her chair, she said, "Oh snap, is that my girl stepping up to sing?"

"No!" Katniss did not want to sing in front of a roomful of people any more than she wanted to admit the real reason for standing up in the middle of her first party at Capitol Cross, with Finnick shoving the mike under her chin. Now what?

"I-I just feel bad for, uh, Blight. That he'd missing out." Katniss' voiced echoed back to her over the speakers. She was already regretting her bad lie, and the fact that there was no turning back now. "I thought I'd run down and see if he's done with Mr. Abernathy's work."

None of the other kids seemed to know quite what to do with this. Only Rue called out timidly, "Hurry back!"

Glimmer was smirking down her nose at Katniss. "Geek love," she said, fake-swooning, "So romantic."

Wait, did they think she liked Blight? Oh, who cared-the one person Katniss would really not want thinking that was the one person she'd been trying to follow outside. Ignoring Glimmer, Katniss scooted toward the door, where Gale met her with crossed arms. "Want company?" he asked.

She shook her head. On any other errand, she probably would have wanted Gale's company. But not right now. "I'll be right back," she said brightly. Before she could register the disappointment on his face, she slinked out into the hall. After the roar of the party, the quiet rang in her ears. It took a second before she could make out hushed voices just around the corner.

_Peeta_. She'd recognize his vioce anywhere. But she was less certain who he was talking to. A girl . . .

"Ah'm sorry," whoever she was said . . . with a distinctive southern twang.

Delly? Peeta had been sneaking out to see blond and airbrushed _Delly?_

"It won't happen again," Deely continued. "I swear to-"

"It _can't_ happen again," Peeta whispered, but his tone practically screamed _lovers quarrel._ "You promised you'd be there, and you weren't." Where? When? Katniss was in agony. She inched down the hallway, trying not to make a sound. But the twon of them had fallen silent. Katniss could picture Peeta taking Delly's hands in his. Could picture him leaning in to her for a long, deep kiss. A sheet of all consuming envy spread across Katniss' chest. Around the corner, one of them sighed.

"You're going to have to turst me, honey," she heard Delly say, in a saccharine voice that made Katniss decide once and for all she hated her. "I'm the only one you've got."

_**A/N: R&R please and thanks ^_^**_


	7. No Salvation

_**A/N: All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Six**

**No Salvation**

Bright and early on Thursday morning, a loudspeaker crackled to life in the hallway outside Katniss' room:

"Attention Capitol Crosstians!"

Katniss rolled over with a groan, but as hard as she crammed the pillow around her ears, it did little to block out Alma's bark over the PA.

"You have exactly nine minutes to report to the gymnasium for your annual fitness examination. As you know, we have dim view of stragglers, so be prompt and be ready for bodily assessment!"

Fitness examination? Bodily assessment? At six-thirty in the morning? Katniss had already been regretting staying up so late last night . . . and staying up so much later lying in bed, stressing. Right around the time she started imagining Peeta and Delly kissing, Katniss had begun to feel queasy-that specific kind of queasiness that came from knowing she'd made a fool of herself. There was no going back to the party. There was only prying herself off the wall and slinking back to her dorm room to second-guess that strange feeling she got around Peeta, the one she'd foolishly mistaken as some kind of connection. She'd woken up with the bad taste of the party's aftermath still in her mouth. The last thing she wanted to think about now was fitness.

She swung her feet off the bed and onto the cold vinyl floor. Brushing her teeth, she tried to picture what Capitol Cross might mean by 'bodily assessment.' Intimidating images of her fellow students-Glimmer doing dozens of mean-faced chin-ups, Delly effortlessly ascending a thirty foot rope toward the sky-flooded her mind. Her only shot at not making a fool of herself-again-was to try to put Peeta and Delly out of her mind.

She crossed the south side of campus to the gymnasium. It was a large Gothic structure with the flying buttresses and fieldstone turrents that made it look more like a church than a place where one would go to break a sweat. As Katniss approached the building, the layer of kudzu coating its facade rustled in the morning breeze.

"Rue," Katniss called, spotting her tracksuit-clad friend lacing up her sneakers on a bench. Katniss looked down at her regulation black clothes and black boots and suddenly panicked that she'd missed some memo about dress code. But then, some of the other students were loitering outside the building and none of them looked much different that she did.

Rue's eyes were groggy. "So beat," she moaned. "I karaoke'd _way_ to hard last night. Thought I'd compensate by trying to at least _look_ athletic." Katniss laughed as Rue fumbled with the double knot on her shoe. "What happened to you last night, anyway? You never came back to the party."

"Oh," Katniss said, stalling. "I decided to-"

"Gaaaahh," Rue covered her ears. "Every sound is like a jackhammer in my brain. Tell me later?"

"Yeah," Katniss said. "Sure." The double doors to the gym were thrust open. Alma stepped out in heavy rubber clogs, holding her ever-present clipboard. She waved the students forward, and one by one they filed ast to be assigned their fitness station.

"Blight Hammond," Alma called as the wobbly-kneed kid approached. Blight's shoulders caved forward like parentheses, and Katniss could see remnants of serious farmer's tan on the back of his neck. "Weights," Alma commanded, chucking Blight aside. "Rueabelle Van Syckle Lockwood," she bellowed next, causing Rue to cower and press her palms against her ears. "Pool." Alma tossed Rue a red one piece speedo racer-back.

"Katniss Everdeen," Alma continued, after consulting her list. Katniss stepped forward and was relieved when Alma said, "Also pool." Katniss reached up to catch the one piece bathing suit in the air. It was stretched out and thin as a piece of parchment between her fingers. At least it smelled clean. Sort of.

"Delly Cartwright," Alma said next, and Katniss whispped around to see her least-favourite person sasahay up in short black shorts and a thin black tank top. She'd been at this school for three days . . . how had she already gotten Peeta?

"Hiii, Alma," Delly said, drawing out the words with a twang that made Katniss want to pull a Rue and cover her ears.

_Anything but pool,_ Katniss willed._ Anything but pool._

"Pool," Alma said.

Walking next to Rue toward the girls' locker room, Katniss tried to avoid looking back at Delly, who twirled what seemed to be the only fashionable bathing suit in the stack around her French-manicured index finger. Instead, Katniss focused on the grey stone walls and the old religious paraphernalia covering them. She walked past ornately carved wooden crosses with their bas-relief depictions of the Passion. A series of faded tripuchs hung at eye level, with only the orbs of the figures' halos still aglow. Katniss leaned forward to get a better look at a large scroll written in Latin, encased in glass.

"Uplifting decor, isn't it?" Rue asked, throwing back a couple of aspirn with a swig of water from her bag.

"What is this stuff?" Katniss asked.

"Ancient history. The only surviving relics from when this place was still the site of Sunday Mass, back in Civil War days."

"That explains why it looks so much like a church," Katniss said, pausing in front of a marble reproduction of Michelangelo's pieta.

"Like everything else in this hellhold, they did a totally half-assed job of updating it. I mean, who builds a pool in the middle of an old church?"

"You're joking," Katniss said.

"I wish," Rue rolled her eyes. "Every summer, the headmaster gets it in his little mind to try and stick me with the tast of redecorating this place. He won't admit it, but all the God stuff really freaks him out," she said. "Problem is, even if I did feel like pitching in, I'd have no idea what to do with all this junk, or even how to clear it out without offending, like, everyone and God."

Katniss thought back to the immaculate white walls inside Hunger High's gymnasium, row after row of professionally shot varsity championship pictures, each matter with the very same navy card stock, each showcased in a matching golden frame. The only hallway more hallowed at Hunger High was its entryway, which was where all the alumni-turned-state-senators and Guffnehiem fellowship whinner and run-of-the-mill billionares displayed their head shots.

"You could hang all the current alumni's mug shots," Delly offered from behind them.

Katniss started to laugh-it _was_ funny . . . and strange, almost like Delly had just read her mind-but then she remembered the girl's voice the night before, telling Peeta _she_ was the only one he had. Katniss quickly swallowed any notion of connection with her.

"You're straggling!" yelled an unknown gym coach, appearing out of nowhere. She-at least Katniss _thought_ she was a she-had a frizzy wad of brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, calves like ham hocks, and yellowing 'invisible' braces covering her top teeth. She hustled the girls angrily into a locker room, where each was given a padlock with a key and directied toward an empty locker with a shove. "Nobody straggles on Coach Atala's watch."

Katniss and Rue scrambled into their faded, baggy bathing suits. Katniss shuddered at her reflection in the mirror, then covered as much of herself as she could with her towel. Inside the humid nataorium, she instantly understood what Rue was talking about. The pool itself was giant, Olympic-sized, one of the few state-of-the-art features she'd encountered so far on this campus. But that wasn't what made it remarkable, Katniss realized in awe. The pool had been set down right in the middle of what used to be a massive church.

There was a row of pretty stained-glass windows, with only a few broken panels, spanning the walls near the high, arched ceiling. There was a candlelit stone niches along the wall. A diving board had been installed where the altar probably used to be. If Katniss had not been riased agnostic, but rather as a God-fearing churchgoer, like the rest of her friends in elementary school, she might have thought this place was sacrilegious.

Some of the other students were already in the water, gasping for air as they completed their laps. But it was the students who weren't in the water who held Katniss' attention. Glimmer, Finnick, and Johanna were all spread out on the bleachers along the wall. They were cracking up about something. Finnick was practically doubled over, and Johanna was wiping away tears. They were in much more attractive bathing suits than Katniss, but not one of them looked like they had any intention of making a move toward the pool.

Katniss picked at her saggy one piece. She wanted to go join Johanna-but just as she was weighing the pros (possible entrance into an elite world) and cons (Coach Atala berating her as a conscientious objector to excerise), Delly sauntered over to the group. Like she was already best friends with all of them. She took a seat right next to Johanna and immediately started laughing.

"They always have notes to sit out," Rue explained, glaring at the popular crowd. "Don't ask me how they get away with it."

Katniss hemmed and hawed at the side of the pool, unable to tune in to Coach Atala's instructions. Seeing Delly et al. clustered on the bleachers cool-kids-style, made Katniss wish Gale was there. She could picture him looking buff in a sleek black bathing suit, waving her over to the crew with his big smile, making her feel immediately welcome, even important.

Katniss felt a gnawing need to apologize for ducking out of his party early. Which was strange-they weren't together, so it wasn't like Katniss was obligated to explain her comings and goings to Gale. But at the same time, she liked it when he paid attention to her. She liked the way he smelled-kind of free and open, like driving with the windows down at night. She liked the way he tuned in to her completely when she talked, holding still like he couldn't see or hear anyone but her. She'd even liked being lifted off her feet at the party, in plain view of Peeta. She didn't want to do anything to make Gale reconsider the way he treated her.

When the coach's whistle blew, a very startled Katniss stood straight up, then looked down regretfully as Rue and the other students near her all jumped forward, into the pool. She looked to Coach Atala for guidance.

"You must be Katniss Everdeen-always late and never listens?" Coach sighed. "Alma told me about you. It's eight laps, pick your best stroke."

Katniss nodded and stood with her toes curled over the edge. She used to love to swim. When her dad taught her how at the District 12 community pool, she'd even been given an award for youngerst kid to ever brave the deep end without floaties. But that was years ago. Katniss couldn't even remember the last time she'd swum. The heated outdoor Hunger High pool had always sparkled, tempting her-but it was closed to anyone who wasn't on the swim team.

Coach Atala cleared her throat. "Maybe you didn't catch that this is a race . . . and you're already losing." This was the most pathetic and ridiculous 'race' that Katniss had ever seen, but it didn't stop her competitive edge from coming out. "And you're _still _losing."

"Not for long," Katniss said.

She checked out the competion. The guy to her left was sputtering water out of his mouth and doing a clumsy freestyle. On her right, a nose plugged Rue was leisurely gliding along, her stomach resting on a pink foam kickboard. For a split second, Katniss glanced at the crown on the bleachers. Glimmer and Finnick were watching; Johanna and Delly were collapsed on each other in an annoying fit of giggles.

But she didn't care what they were laughing at. Sort of. She was off.

With her arms bowed above her head, Katniss dove in, feeling her back arch as she glided into the crisp water. Few people could do it really well, her dad once explained to an eight year old Katniss at the pool. But once you perfected the butterfly stroke, there was no way to move faster in the water.

Letting her aggravation propel her forward, Katniss lifted her upper body out of the water. The movement came right back to her and she started to beat her arms like wings. She swam harder than she'd done anything in a long, long time. Feeling vindicated, she lapped the other swimmers once, then again.

She was nearing the end of her eighth lap when her head popped above the water just long enough to hear Delly's slow voice say, "Peeta."

Like a snuffed-out candle, Katniss' momentum disappeared. She put her feet down and waited to see what else Delly had to say. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear anything else other than a raucous splashing and, a moment later, the whistle.

"And the winner is," Coach Atala said with a stunned expression. "Joel Bland." The skinny kid with braces from the next lane over hooped out of the pool and started raising the roof to celebrate his victory.

In the next lane, Rue kicked to a stop. "What happened?" she asked Katniss. "You were totally killing him."

Katniss shrugged. _Delly _was what had happened, but when she looked over at the bleachers, Delly was gone, and Johanna and Glimmer were gone with her. Finnick alone remained where the crowd had been, and he was immersed in a book. Katniss' adrenaline had been building while she swam, but now she'd crashed so hard, Rue had to help her out of the pool.

Katniss watched Finnick hop down from the bleachers. "You were pretty good out there," he said, tossing her a towel and the locker room key she'd lost track of. "For a little while." Katniss caught the key midair and wrapped the towel around her. But before she could say something normal, like "Thanks for the towel," or "Guess I'm just out of shape," this weird new hotheaded side of her instead blurted out, "Are Peeta and Delly together or what?"

Big mistake. Huge. She could tell from the look in his eye that her question was headed right to Peeta.

"Oh, I see," Finnick said, and laughed. "Well, I couldn't really . . ." He looked down and scratched his nose and gave her what seemed like a sympathetic smile. Then he pointed toward the open hallway door, and when Katniss followed his finger she saw Peeta's trim, blond silhouette pass by. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

~xXx~

Katniss' hair was still dripping wet and her feet were still bare when she found herself hovering at the door to a large weight room. She'd intended to go straight into the locker room to change and dry off. She didn't know why this Delly thing was shaking her up so much. Peeta could be with whomever he wanted, right?

Maybe Delly liked guys who flipped her off.

Or, more likely, that kind of thing didn't happen to Delly.

But Katniss' body got the better of her mind when she caught another glimpse of Peeta. His back was to her and he was standing in a corner picking out a jump rope from a tangled pile. She watched as he selected a thin navy rope with wooden handles, then moved to an open space in the center of the room. His pale skin was almost glowing, and every movement he made, whether he was rolling out his long neck in a stretch or bending over to stratch his knee, had Katniss completely rapt. She stood pressed against the doorway, unaware that her teeth were chattering and her towel was soaked.

When he brought the rope behind his ankle just before he began to jump, Katniss was slammed with a wave of deja vu. It wasn't exactly that she felt like she'd seen Peeta jump rope before, but more that the stance he took seemed entirely familar. He stood with his feet hip width apart, unlocked his knees, and pressed his shoulders down as he filled his chest with air. Katniss could have almost drawn it.

It was only when Peeta began twirling the rope that Katniss snapped out of that trance . . . and right into another. Never in her life had she seen anyone move like him. It was almost like Peeta was flying. The rope whipped up and over his frame so quickly that is disappeared, and his feet-were they even touching the ground? He was moving so swiftly, even he must not have been counting.

A loud grunt and a thud on the other side of the weight room tore Katniss' attention away. Blight was in a heap at the base of those knotted climbing ropes. She felt momentarily sorry for Blight, who was looking down at his blistered hands. Before she could look back at Peeta to see whether he'd even noticed, a cold black rush at the edge of her skin made Katniss shiver. The shadow swept up on her slowly at first, icy, tenebrous, its limits indiscernible. Then, suddenly rough, it crashed into her body and forced her back. The door to the weight room slammed in her face and Katniss was alone in the hallway.

"Ow!" she cried, not because she was hurt exactly, but because she had never been _touched_ by the shadows before. She looked down at the base of her arms, where it had felt almost like hands had gripped her, shoving her out of the gym.

That was impossible-she'd just been standing in a weird place; a draft must have shot through the gymnasium. Uneasily, she approached the door and pressed her face up against the small glass rectangle. Peeta was looking around, like he'd heard something. She felt certain he didn't know it was her: He wasn't scowling.

She thought about Finnick's suggestion that she just ask Peeta what was up, but quickly dismissed the notion. It was impossible to ask anything of Peeta. She didn't want to bring a scowl out on his face.

Besides, any question she might pose would be useless. She'd already heard all she needed to hear last night. She'd have to be some kind of sadist to ask him to admit he was with Delly. She turned back toward the locker room when she realized she couldn't leave.

Her key.

It must have slipped from her hands when she stumbled out of the room. She stood on tiptoes to look down through the small glass panel on the door. How had it gotten so far across the room? There is was, a bronze blunder on the padded blue mat. How can it gotten so close to him?

Katniss sighed and pushed the door back open, thinking she had to go in, at least she'd make it quick. Reaching for the key, she sneaked one last look at him. His pace was slowing, but his feet still barely touched the ground. And then, with one final light-as-air bounce, he came to a stop and turned around to face her.

For a moment, he said nothing. She could feel herself blush and really wished she wasn't wearing such a horrible bathing suit.

"Hi" was all she could think to say.

"Hi," he said back, in a much calmer tone of voice. Then, gesturing at her bathing suit. "Did you win?"

Katniss laughed a sad, self-effacing laugh and shook her head. "Far from it."

Peeta pursed his lips. "But you were always . . ."

"I was always what?"

"I mean, you look like you might be a good swimmer." He shrugged. "That's all."

She stepped toward him. They were standing just a foot apart. Drops of water fell from her hair and pattered like rain on the gym matts. "That's not what you were going to say," she insisted. "You said I was always . . ."

Peeta busied himself coiling the jump rope around his wrist. "Yeah, I didn't mean _you_ you. I meant in general. They're always supposed to let you win your first race here. Unspoken code of conduct for us old-timers."

"But Delly didn't win either," Katniss said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And she's new. She didn't even get in the pool."

"She's not exactly new, just coming back after some time . . . off," Peeta shrugged, giving away nothing of his feelings for Delly. His obvious attempt to look unconcerned made Katniss feel jealous. She watched him finish looping the jump rope into a coil, the way his hands moved almost as quickly as his feet. And here she was so clumsy and lonely and cold and left out of everything by everyone. Her lip quivered.

"Oh Lucinda," he whispered, sighing heavily.

Not many people called her by her second name. A few, but not many. Her parents did when they were angry but that was more along the lines of _'Katniss Lucinda Everdeen get over here now!'_ Of course, that ended when they began to become afraid of her.

But when Peeta said it, her whole body warmed at the sound. His voice was so intimate and familiar. She wanted him to say her second name again, but he had turned away. He hooked the jump rope over a peg on the wall. "I better go change before class."

She rested a hand on his arm. "Wait." He wrenched away as if he had been shocked-and she felt it too, but it was the kind of shock that felt _good._ "Do you ever get the feeling . . ." She raised her eyes to his. Up close, she could see how unusual they were. They seemed blue from far away, but up close there was violet flecks in them. She knew someone else with eyes like that . . . "I could swear we've met before," she said. "Am I crazy?"

"Crazy? Isn't that why you're here?" he said, brushing her off.

"I'm serious."

"So am I." Peeta's face was blank. "And for the record-" he pointed up at the blinking device attatched to the ceiling-"the reds monitor for stalkers."

"I'm not _stalking_ you." She stiffened, very aware of the distance between their bodies. "Can you honestly say you have no idea who I'm talking about."

Peeta shrugged.

"I don't believe you," Katniss insisted. "Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong. That I've never in my life seen you before this week."

Her heart raced as Peeta stepped toward her, placed both hands on her shoulders. His thumbs fit perfectly along the grooves of her collarbone, and she wanted to close her eyes at the warmth of his touch-but she didn't. She watched as Peeta bowed his head so his nose was nearly touching hers. She could feel his breath on her face. She could smell a hint of sweetness on his skin.

He did as she asked. He looked her in the eye and said, very slowly, very clearly, so that his words could not possibly be misunderstood:

"You have never in your life seen me before this week."

_**A/N: Please R&R**_


	8. Shedding Light

_**A/N: This chapter is very much Katniss and Gale centered but their 'moment' is interuppted *cough* saved *cough* by an unlikely character and don't worry, Peeta's there at the end ;)**_

_**All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Seven**

**Shedding Light**

"_Now _where are you going?" Gale asked, lowering his red plastic sunglasses. He'd appeared outside the entrance of the Augustine so suddenly that Katniss almost plowed right into him. Or maybe he'd been there awhile and she just hadn't noticed in her haste to get to class. Either way, her heart started beating quickly and her palms began to sweat.

"Um, class?" Katniss answered, because where did it look like she was going? Her arms were full with her two hefty calculus books and her half-completed religion assignment. This would have been a good time to apologize for leaving so suddenly last night. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was already so late. There hadn't been any hot water in the locker showers, so she'd had to trek all the way back to her dorm. Somehow, what had happened at the party didn't seem important anymore. She didn't want to draw any more attention to her leaving-especially not now, after Peeta had made her feel so patheic. She also didn't want Gale to think she was being rude. She just wanted to steer past him and be by herself sos he could move on from this morning's string of embarrassments.

Except-the longer Gale gazed at her, the less important it felt to leave. And the less Katniss' pride stung over Peeta's dismissal. How could one look from Gale do all that?

With his dark, tanned skin and brown hair, Gale was different from any guy she'd ever known. He exuded confidence, and not just because he knew everyone-and how to get everything-before Katniss had even figured out where he classes were. Right then, standing outside the drab, grey school building, Gale looked like an arty black and white photograh, his red shades Technicoloured in.

"Class, eh?" Gale yawned dramtically. He was blocking the entrance, and something about the amused way his mouth was set made Katniss want to know what wild idea he had up his sleeve. There was a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, and a disposable espresso cup between his fingers. He pressed Stop on his iPod, but left the earbuds dangling from his neck. Part of her wanted to know what song he had been listening to, and where he'd gotten that black market espresso. They playful smile visible only in his grey eyes dared her to ask.

Gale skimmed a sip off the top of his coffee. Holding up his index finger, he said, "Allow me to share my motto about Capitol Cross classes: Better never than late."

Katniss laughed, and then Gale pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. The lenses were so dark, she couldn't see even a hint of his eyes.

"Besides." He smiled, flashing her a white arch of teeth. "It's just about lunchtime, and I've got a picnic."

Lunchtime? Katniss hadn't even had breakfast yet. But her stomach _was_ growling-and the idea of being reamed by Mr. Abernathy for missing all but the last twenty minutes of morning classes seemed less and less appealing the longer she stood next to Gale.

She nodded at the bag he was holding. "Did you pack enough for two?"

Steering Katniss with a broad hand on the small of her back, Gale led her across the commons, past the library and the dismal dorm. At the metal gates to the cemetery, he stopped. "I know this is a weird place for a picnic," he explained, "but it's the best spot I know to dip out of sight for a little while. On campus, anyway. Sometimes I just can't breathe in there." He gestured toward the building.

Katniss could definetly relate to that. She felt both stifled and exposed almost all the time at this place. But Gale seemed like the last person who would share that new-student syndrome. He was so . . . collected. After that party last night, and now the forbidden espresso in his hand, she would never have guessed he'd feel suffocated, too. Or that he'd pick her to share the feeling with.

Past his head, she could see the rest of the run-down campus. From here, there wasn't much of a difference between one side of the cemetery gates and the other. Katniss decided to go with it. "Just promise to save me if any statues topple over."

"No," Gale said, with a seriousness that effectively erased her joke. "That won't happen again."

Her eyes fell on the spot where only days earlier, she and Peeta had come close to ending up in the cemetery themselves. But the marble angel that had toppled over them was gone, its pedestal bare.

"Come on," Gale said, tugging her along with him. They sidestepped overgrown patches of weeds, and Gale kept turning to help her over mounds of dirt burrowed out by who-knew-what. At one point, Katniss nearly lost her balance and grabbed on to one of the headstones to steady herself. It was a large, polished slab with one rough, unfinished side. "I've always liked that one," he said, gesturing to the pinkish headstone under her fingers. Katniss crossed around to the front of the plot to read the inscription.

"'Joseph Miley,'" she read aloud. "'1821 to 1865. Bravely served in the War of Northern Aggression. Survived three bullets and five horses felled from under him before meeting his final peace.'"

Katniss cracked her knuckles. Maybe Gale only liked it because its pink polished stone stood out among the mostly grey ones? Or because of the intricate whorls in the crest along the top? She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," Gale shrugged. "I just like how the headstone explains the way he died. It's honest, you know? Usually, people don't want to go there."

Katniss looked away. She knew all too well from the inscrutable epitaph on Thresh's tombstone.

"Think how much more interesting this place would be if everyone's cause of death was chiseled in." He pointed to a small grave a few plots down from Joseph Miley's. "How do you think he died?"

"Um, scarlet fever?" Katniss guessed, wandering over. She traced the dates with her fingers. The girl buried here had been younger than Katniss when she died. Katniss didn't really want to think too hard about how it might have happened.

Gale tilted his head, considering. "Maybe," he said. "Either that or a mysterious barn fire while young Betsy was taking an innocent 'nap' with the neighbour boy."

Katniss started to pretend to act offended, but instead Gale's expectant face made her laugh. It had been a long time since she'd just goofed off with a guy. Sure, this scene was a bit more morbid than the typical movie theater parking lot flirtations she used to, but so were the students at Capitol Cross. For better or worse, Katniss was one of them now.

She followed Gale to the bottom of the bowl-like graveyard and the more ornate tombs and mausoleums. On the slope above, the headstones seemed to be looking down at them, like Katniss and Gale were performers in an amphitheater. The midday sun glowed orange through the leaves of a giant live oak tree in the cemetery, and Katniss shaded her eyes with her hands. It was the hottest day they'd had all week.

"Now this guy," Gale said, pointing to a huge tomb framed by Corinthian columns. "Total draft dodger. He suffocated when a beam collapsed in his basement. Which just goes to show you, never hide out from a Confederate roundup."

"Is that so?" Katniss asked. "Remind me what makes you the expert of all of this?" Even as she teased him, Katniss felt strangely privileged to be there with Gale. He kept glancing at her to make sure she was smiling.

"It's just a sixth sense." He flashed her a big, innocent grin. "If you like it, there's a seventh sense, and an eight sense, and a ninth sense where that came from."

"Impressive." She smiled. "I'll settle for the sense of taste right now. I'm starving."

"At your service." Gale pulled a blanket from his tote bag and spread it out in a scrap of shade under the live oak tree. He unscrewed a thermos and Katniss could smell the strong espresso. She didn't usually drink her coffee black, but she watched as he filled a tumbler with ice, poured the espresso over it, and added just the right amount of milk over the top. "I forgot to bring sugar," he said.

"I don't take sugar." She took a sip from the bone dry iced latte, her first delicious sip of Capitol Cross prohibitied caffeine all week.

"That's lucky," Gale said, spreading out the rest of the picnic. Katniss' eyes grew wide as she watched him arrange the food: a dark brown baguette, a small round of oozy cheese, a terra cotta tub of olives, a bowl of devlied eggs and two bright green apples. It didn't seem possible that Gale had fit all that in his bag-or that he'd been planning on eating all this food by himself.

"Where did you get this?" Katniss asked. Pretending to focus on tearing off a hunk of bread, she asked, "And who else were you planning on picnicking with before I came along?"

"Before you came along?" Gale asked. "I can hardly remember my bleak life before you."

Katniss gave him the slightest of snide looks so he'd know that she found the remark incredibly cheesy . . . and just a little bit charming. She leaned back on her elbows on the blanket, her legs crossed at the ankles. Gale was sitting cross-legged facing her, and when he reached over her for the cheese knife, his arm brushed, then rested on, the knee of her black jeans. He looked up at her, as if to ask, _Is this okay?_

When she didn't flinch, he stayed there, taking the hunk of baguette from her hand and using her leg like a tabletop while he spread a triangle of cheese onto the bread. She liked the feeling if his weight on her, and in this heat, that was saying something.

"I'll start with the easier question first," he said, finally sitting back up. "I help out in the kitchen a couple of days a week. Part of my readmittance agreement at Capitol Cross. I'm supposed to be 'giving back.'" He rolled his eyes. "But I don't mind it in there. I guess I like the heat. That is, if you don't count the grease burns." He held out his upturned wrists to expose dozens of tiny scars on his forearms. "Occupational hazard," he said casually. "But I do get the run of the pantry." Katniss couldn't resist running her fingers along them. Before she could feel embarrassed by her forwardness and pull away, Gale grabbed her hand and squeezed.

Katniss started at his fingers wrapped around hers. She didn't realized before how closely the shades of their skin matched. Her shoulders shivered and she felt a little dizzy.

"Are you cold?" he asked quietly. When she met his eyes, she knew he knew she wasn't cold. He scooted closer on the blanket and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Now I guess you're going to want me to admit that I saw you crossing the quad through the kitchen window and packed all this up in the hopes of convincing you to skip class with me?"

This was when she would have fished in her drink for ice, if it hadn't already melted in the stale September heat. "And you had this whole scheme of a romantic picnic," she finished. "In the scenic cemetery?"

"Hey." He ran a finger along her bottom lip. "You're the one bringing up romance."

Katniss pulled back. He was right-she'd been the presumptuous one . . . for the second time that day. She could feel her cheeks burn as she tried _not_ to think about Peeta.

"I'm kidding," he said, shaking his head the stricken look on her face. "As if that weren't obvious." He gazed up at a turkey vulture circling a great white statue shaped like a cannon. "I know it's no Eden here," he said, tossing Katniss an apple, "but just pretend we're in a Smiths song. And to my credit, it's not like there's much to work wth at this school."

That was putting it mildly.

"The way I see it," Gale said, leaning back on the blanket, "location is negligible."

Katniss shot him a doubtful look. She also wished he hadn't leaned away, but she was too shy to approach when he was reclining on his side.

"Where I grew up"-he paused-"things weren't so different from the penitentiary-style living at Capitol Cross. The upshot is I'm offically immune to my surroundings."

"No way." Katniss shook her head. "If I handed you a plane ticket to California right now, you wouldn't be totally thrilled to break out of here?"

"Mmm . . . mildly indifferent," Gale said, popping a deviled egg in his mouth.

"I don't believe you." Katniss gave him a shove.

"Then you must have had a happy childhood."

Katniss bit into the chewy skin of the apple and sucked the juice running down her fingers. She ran through a mental catalog of all the parental frowns, doctor's visits, and school changes of her childhood, the black shadows hanging like a shroud over everything. No, she wouldn't say she'd had a _happy_ childhood. But if Gale couldn't even see a way out of Capitol Cross, something more hopeful on the horizon, then maybe his had been worse.

There was a rustling at their feet and Katniss snapped into a ball when a thick green and yellow snake slithered past. Trying not to get too close, she rolled to her knees and peered down at it. A translucent case was coming off its tail. There were snakes all over Panem, but she'd never seen one molt.

"Don't scream," Gale said, resting a hand on Katniss' shoulder. His touch did make her feel safer. "He'll move on if we just leave him alone." It couldn't happen quickly enough. Katniss wanted very badly to scream. She had always hated and feared snakes. They were so slithery and scaly and . . .

"Eugh." She shivered, but she couldn't take her eyes off the snake until it disappeared into the long grass. Gale smirked as he picked up the shed skin and placed it in her hand. It still felt alive, like dewy skin on a bulb of garlic her father had pulled fresh from his garden. But it had just come off a snake. Gross. She tossed it back to the ground and wiped her hands on her jeans.

"Come on, you didn't think it was cute?"

"Did my trembling give it away?" Katniss was already feeling a bit embarrassed by how childish she must have looked.

"What about your faith in the power of transformation?" Gale asked, fingering the shed skin. "That's what we're here for, after all." Gale had taken off his sunglasses. His grey eyes were so confident. He was holding that inhumanly still pose again, waiting for her to answer.

"I'm starting to think you're a little bit strange," she said finally, cracking the tiniest smile.

"Oh, and just think how much more there is to know about me," he replied, leaning closer. Closer than he had when the snake came. Closer than she'd been expecting him to. He reached out and slowly ran his fingers through her hair. Katniss tensed up.

Gale was gorgeous and intriguing. What she couldn't figure out was how, when she should have been a bundle of nerves-like right then-she still somehow felt completely comfortable. She wanted to be right where she was. She couldn't take her eyes off his lis, which were full and pink and moving closer, making her feel even dizzier. His shoulder brushed hers and she felt a strange shiver deep inside her chest. She watched as Gale parted his lips. Then she closed her eyes.

"There y'all are!" A breathless voice pulled Katniss right out of the moment. Katniss let out an exasperated sigh and shifted her attention to Delly, who was standing before them with a high side ponytail, and an oblvious grin on her face. "I've been looking _everywhere!"_

"Why on earth would you be doing such a thing?" Gale glowered at her, scoring him a few more points with Katniss.

"Cemetery was the last place I thought of," Delly rattled on, counting her fingers. "I checked your dorm rooms, then under the bleachers, then-"

"What do you _want_ Delly?" Gale cut her off, like a sibling, like they'd known each other a long time.

Delly blinked, then bit her lip. "It was Miss. Trinket," she said finally, snapping her fingers. "That's right. She got frantic when Katniss didn't show up for class. Kept saying how you were such a promising student and all that."

Katniss couldn't read this girl. Was she for real and just following orders? Was she mocking her for making a good impression on a teacher? Was it not enough for her to have Peeta wrapped around her finger-she had to move in on Gale too?

Delly must have sensed that she was interuppting something, but she just stood there blinking her big doe eyes and twirling a strand of blond hair around her fingers. "Well, come on," she said finally, sticking out both hands to help Katniss and Gale up. "Let's get you back to class."

~xXx~

"Katniss, you can have station three," Miss. Trinket said, looking down at a sheet of paper when Katniss, Gale and Delly entered the library. No _Where have you been?_ No points off for tardiness. Just Miss. Trinket, absently placing Katniss next to Rue in the computer lab section of the library. Like she hadn't even noticed that Katniss had been gone.

Katniss shot Delly an accusatory look, but she just shrugged at Katniss and mouthed, "What?"

"Wherehaveyoubeen?" Rue demanded as soon as she sat down. The only person who seemed to notice she'd been gone at all.

Katniss' eyes found Peeta, who was practically burrowed into his computer station seven. From her seat, all Katniss could see of him was the blond halo of his hair, but it was enough to bring a flush to her cheeks. She sank lower in her chair, mortified all over again by their conversation in the gym.

Even after all the laughs and smiles and one potential near kiss she'd just shared with Gale, she couldn't shut out what she felt when she saw Peeta.

And they were never going to be together.

That was the gist of what he had told her in the gym. After she'd basically thrown herself at him.

The rejection cut her so deeply, so close to her heart, she felt certain everyone around her could take one look at her and know exactly what happened.

Rue was tapping her pencil impatiently on Katniss' desk. But Katniss didn't know how to explain. Her picnic with Gale had been interuppted by Delly before she had been able to really make sense of what was happening. Or about to happen. But what was weird, and what she couldn't figure out, was why all of that felt so much less important than what had happened in the gym with Peeta.

Miss Trinket stood in the middle of the computer lab, snapping her fingers in the air like a preschool teacher to get the students' attention. Her stacks of silver bangle bracelets chimed like bells. "If any of you have ever traced you own family tree," she called over the din of the crowd, "then you'll know what sorts of treasures lie buried in the roots."

"Oh, jeez, please kill that metaphor," Rue whispered. "Or kill me. One or the other."

"You have twenty minutes access to the Internet to begin researching your own family tree," Miss Trinket said, tapping a stopwatch. "A generation is roughly twenty to twenty-five years, so aim to go back at least six generations."

Groan.

An audible sigh erupted from station seven-Peeta.

Miss Trinket turned to him. "Peeta? Do you have a problem with this assignment?"

He sighed again and shrugged. "No, not at all. That's fine. My family tree. Should be interesting."

Miss Trinket tilted her head quizzically. "I'll take that statement for an enthusiastic endorsement." Addressing the class again, she said, "I trust you'll find a line worth pursing in a ten-to fifteen-page research paper."

Katniss could not possibly focus on this right now. Not when there was so much else to process. She and Gale in the cemetery. Maybe it hadn't been the standard definition of romantic, but Katniss almost perferred it that way. It was nothing she'd ever done before. Skipping class to mosey through all the graves. Sharing that picnic, while he refilled her perfectly made latte. Making fun of her fear of snakes. Well, she could have done without that whole snake development, but at least Gale had been sweet about it. Sweeter than Peeta had been all week.

She hated to admit that, but it was true. Peeta wasn't interested.

Gale on the other hand . . .

She studied him, a few stations away. He winked at her before he began pecking at his keyboard. So he liked her. Madge wasn't going to be able to shut up about how obviously into her he was. She wanted to call Madge now, to bolt out of this library and take a rain check on the family tree assignment. Talking up another guy was the fastest-maybe the only-way to get Peeta over her head. But there was that horrible Capitol Cross phone policy, and all the other students around her, who looked so diligent. Miss Trinket's tiny eyes panned the class for procrastinators.

Katniss sighed, defeated, and opened the search engine on her computer. She was stuck here for another twenty minutes-with not one brain cell devoted to her assignment. The last thing she wanted to do was learn about her own boring family. Instead, her listless fingers began to tap out twelve letters entirely of their own accord:

"Peeta Mellark."

Search.

_**A/N: I don't normally say this but hooray for Delly! Great job, you saved us all! :D**_

_**Please R&R ^_^**_


	9. A Dive too Deep

_**A/N: Sorry for not updating yesterday! I'm hoping to get two chapters done today to make up for it so keep a look out! ;)**_

_**All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Eight**

**A Dive Too Deep**

When Katniss answered the knock on her door Saturday morning, Rue tumbled into her arms.

"You'd think it would dawn on me someday that the doors open_ in_," she apologized, straightening herself. "Must remember to stop leaning on peepholes. Nice digs, by the way," she added, looking around. She crossed to the window over Katniss' bed. "Not a bad view, minus the bars and all."

Katniss stood behind her, looking out at the cemetery and, in plain view, the live oak tree where she'd had the picnic with Gale. And, invisible from here but clear in her head, the place she'd been pinned under that statue with Peeta. The avenging angel that mysteriously disappeared after the accident.

Remembering Peeta's worried eyes when he whispered her name that day, the near touch of their noses, the way she'd felt his fingertips on her neck-all of it made her feel hot.

And pathetic. She sighed and turned away from the window, realizing Rue had moved on, too. She was picking things off Katniss' desk, giving each of Katniss' possessions careful scrutiny. The Statue of Liberty paperweight her dad had brought he back from a conference at NYU, the picture of her mum with a hilariously bad perm when she was around Katniss' age, the eponymous Lucinda Williams CD Madge had given her as a going-away present before Katniss had ever heard the name Capitol Cross.

"Where are your books?" she asked Rue, wanting to detour around a trip down memory lane. "You said you were coming over to study."

By then, Rue had begun to rifle through her wardrobe. Katniss watched as she quickly lost interest in the variations of dress code-style black T-shirts and sweaters. When Rue moved toward her dresser drawers, Katniss stepped forward to intercept.

"Okay, that's enough, Snoop," she said. "Isn't there research we should be doing on our family trees?"

"Speaking of snooping." Rue's eyes twinkled. "Yes, there is research we should be doing. But not the kind you're thinking."

Katniss stared at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Look." Rue put her hand on Katniss' shoulder. "If you really want to know about Peeta Mellark-"

"Shhhh!" Katniss hissed, jumping to close her door. She stuck her head into the hall and scanned the scene. The coast looked clear-but that didn't mean anything. People at this school had a suspicious way of appearing out of nowhere. Gale in particular. And Katniss would die if he-or anyone-found out how enamoured of Peeta she was. Or, at this point, anyone but Rue.

Statisfied, Katniss closed and locked the door, and turned back to her friend. Rue was sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed. She looked amused. Katniss locked her hands behind her back and dug her toe into the circular red rug near the door. "What makes you think I want to know anything about him?"

"Give me a break," Rue said, laughing. "A, it's totally obvious that you stare at Peeta Mellark _all_ the time."

"Shhh!" Katniss said again.

"B," Rue said, not dropping her voice, "I watched you stalk him online for an entire class the other day. Sue me-but you were being totally shameless. And C, don't get all paranoid. You think I blab to anyone at this school besides you?"

Rue did have a point.

"I'm only saying," she continued, "assuming _hypothetically_ you did want to know more about a certain unamed person, you could _conceivably_ bark up a more fruitful tree." Rue shrugged one shoulder. "You know, if you had help."

"I'm listening," Katniss said, sinking down on the bed. Her internet search the other day had onlny amounted to typing, deleting, then retyping Peeta's name into the search field.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Rue said. "I didn't bring books with me today because I'm giving you"-she widened her eyes goofily-"a guided tour of the highly off-limits underground lair of Capitol Cross office records!"

Katniss grimaced. "I don't know. Prying into Peeta's files? I'm not sure I need another reason to feel like a crazy stalker girl."

"Ha." Rue snickered. "And yes, you did just say that out loud. Come on, Katniss. It'll be fun. Besides, what else are you going to do on a perfectly sunny Saturday morning?"

It was a nice day-precisely the kind of nice that made you feel lonely if you didn't have anything fun and outdoorsy planned. In the middle of the night, Katniss had felt a cool front brush through her open window, and when she'd awoken this morning, the head and humidity had all but disappeared.

She used to spend these golden early-fall days tearing up the neighbourhood bike path with her friends. That was before she started avoiding the woodsy trail because of the shadows none of the other girls ever saw. Before their friends sat her down one day during recess and said their parents didn't want them inviting her over anymore, in case she had an _incident._

Truth was, Katniss had been a little panicked about how she'd spend the first weekend at Capitol Cross. No classes, no terrorizing physical fitness tests, no social events on the docket. Just forty eight endless hours of free time. An eternity. She'd had a queasy homesick feeling all morning-until Rue showed up.

"Okay." Katniss tried not to laugh when she said, "Take me to your secret lair."

~xXx~

Rue practically skipped as she led Katniss across the trampled grass of the commons to the main lobby near the school's entrance. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for a partner in crime to bring down here with me."

Katniss smiled, glad Rue was more focused on having a friend to explore with than she was on, well, this . . . _thing_ she had for Peeta.

At the edge of the commons, they passed a few kids lazing around on the bleachers in the clear late-morning sun. It was strange to see colour on campus, on these students with whom Katniss so closely identified the colour black. But there was Finnick in a pair of lime-green football shorts, dribbling a ball between his feet. And Delly in her purple gingham button-down shirt. Enobaria and Brutus-the tongue ringed couple-were drawing on the knees of each other's faded jeans. Blight sat apart from the rest of the kids on the bleachers, reading a comic book in a camouflage T-shirt. Even Katniss' own grey tank top and shorts felt more vibrant than anything she'd worn all week.

Coach Atala and Ms. Paylor were on lawn duty and had set up two plastic lawn chairs and a sagging umbrella at the edge of the commons. Aside from when they ashed their cigarettes on the lawn, they could have been asleep behind their dark sunglasses. They looked utterly bored, as imprisoned by their jobs as the charges they were monitoring.

There were a lot of people out on the commons, but as she followed closely behind Rue, she was glad to see there wasn't anyone near the main lobby at all. No-one had said anything to Katniss about tresspassing in restricted areas, or even which areas _were_ restricted, but she was sure Alma would find an appropriate punishment.

"What about the reds?" Katniss asked, remembering the omnipresent cameras.

"I just stuck some dead batteries in a few of them on the way over to your room," Rue said, in the same nonchlant tone of voice someone else might use to say, "I just filled up the car with gas."

Rue took a sweeping look around before she led Katniss down to the main building's back entrance and down three steps to an olive-coloured door not visible from ground level. "Is this basement from the Civil War era, too?" Katniss asked. It looked like an entrance to the kind of place where you could stash some POWs.

Rue gave the damp air a long, dramatic sniff. "Does the malodorous rot answer you question? This here is some antebellum mildew." She grinned at Katniss. "_Most_ students would keel over for the chance to inhale such storied air."

Katniss tried not to breathe through her nose as Rue produced a hardware store's worth of keys held together on a giant lanyard. "My life would be so much easier if they got around to making a skeleton key for this place," she said, shifting through the assortment and finally pulling forward a thin silver key.

When the key turned in the lock, Katniss felt an unexpected shiver of excitement. Rue was right-this was way better than mapping out her family tree. They walked the short distance through a warm, damp corridor whose ceiling was only a few inches higher than their heads. The stale air smelled like something had dried there, and Katniss was almost glad the room was too dark to clearly see the floor. Just when she was beginning to feel claustrophobic, Rue produced another key that opened a small but much more modern door. They ducked through, then were able to stand up on the other side.

Inside, the records office reeked of mildew, but the air felt much cooler and drier. It was pitch black except for the pale red glow of the EXIT sigh over their heads. Katniss could make out Rue's silhouette, her hands groping the air. "Where's that string?" she muttered. "There."

With a gentle tug, Rue turned on a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling on a linked metal chain. The room was still dim, but Katniss could see that the cement walls were also painted olive green and lined with heavy metal shelves and filing cabinets. Dozens of cardboard boxes had been stuffed onto the shelves, and the aisles between the cabinets seemed to stretch out forever. Everything was coated with a thick felt of dust.

The sunshine outside suddenly felt very far away. Even though Katniss knew they were only a flight of stairs under the ground, it might as well have been a mile. She rubbed her bare arms. If she were a shadow, this basement was exactly where she'd be. There were no signs of them yet, but Katniss knew that was never a good enough reason to feel safe.

Rue, unfazed by the gloom of the basement, dragged a step stool from the corner. "Wow," she said, pulling it behind her as she walked. "Something's different. The records used to be right here . . . I guess they've been doing a little spring cleaning since the last time I meddled in here."

"How long ago was that?" Katniss asked.

"About a week . . . " Rue's voice trailed off as she disappeared into the darkness behind a tall file cabinet. Katniss couldn't imagine what Capitol Cross would possibly need with all of these boxes. She lifted one lid and pulled out a thick file labeled REMEDIAL MEASURES. She swallowed dryly. Maybe she was better off not knowing.

"It's alphabetical by student," Rue called. Her voice was muffled and far away. "K, L, M . . . here we are, Mellark." Katniss followed the sound of rustling paperwork down a narrow aisle and soon found Rue with a box propped in her arms, struggling under its weight. Peeta's file was tucked under her chin. "It's so thin," she said, lifting her chin slightly so Katniss could take it. "Normally, they're so much more, um . . ." She looked up at Katniss and bit her lip. "Okay, now _I_ sound like the crazy stalker girl. Let's just see what's inside."

There was only a single page in Peeta's file. A black and white scan of what must have been his student ID picture was pasted onto the upper right hand corner. He was looking straight at the camera, at Katniss, a faint smile on his lips. She couldn't help smiling back. He looked just the same as she had that night when-well, she couldn't quite think of then. The image of his expression was so sharp in her mind, but she couldn't pin down where she would have seen it.

"God, doesn't he look exactly the same?" Rue interuppted Katniss' thoughts. "And look at the date. This picture was taken three years ago when he first came to Capitol Cross."

That must have been what Katniss was thinking . . . That Peeta looked the same then as he did now. But she felt like she'd been thinking-or about to think-something different, only now she couldn't remember what it was.

"'Parents: Unknown,'" Rue read., with Katniss leaning over her shoulder. "'Guardian: Los Angeles County Orphange.'"

"Orphange?" Katniss asked, pressing a hand to her heart.

"That's all there is. Everything else listed here is his-"

"Criminal history," Katniss finished, reading along. "'Loitering on public beach after hours . . . vandalism of a shopping cart . . . jaywalking.'"

Rue widened her eyes at Katniss and swallowed a laugh. "Loverboy Mellark got arrested for _jaywalking?_ Admit it, that's funny."

Katniss didn't like picturing Peeta getting arrested for anything. She liked it even less that, according to Capitol Cross, his whole life added up to a little more than a list of petty crimes. All these boxes of paperwork down here, and this was all there was of Peeta.

"There has to be more," she said.

Footsteps overhead. Katniss' and Rue's eyes shot to the ceiling.

"The main office," Rue whispered, pulling a tissue from her sleeve to blow her nose. "It could be anyone. But no one's going to come down here, trust me." A second later, a door deep within the room creaked open, and light from a hall illuminated a stairway. A clopping of shoes started down. Katniss felt Rue's grip on the back of her shirt, pulling her against the wall behind a bookshelf. They waited, holding their breath and clutching Peeta's poached file in their hands. They were so, so busted.

Katniss had her eyes closed, expecting the worse, when a haunting, melodious hum filled the room. Someone was singing.

"Doooo da da da dooo," a female voice crooned softly. Katniss craned her neck between two boxes of files and could see a thin older woman with a small flashlight strapped to her forehead like a coal miner. Miss Trinket. She was carrying two large boxes, one stacked on top of the other so the only of her that was visible was her glowing forehead. Her airy steps made it look as if the boxes were full of feathers instead of heavy files.

Rue gripped Katniss' hand as they watched Miss Trinket place the file boxes on an empty shelf. She took out a pen to write down something in her notebook. "Just a couple more," she said, then something under her breath that Katniss couldn't hear. A second later, Miss Trinket was gliding back up the stairs, gone as quickly as she'd appeared. Her hum lingered for just a moment in her wake.

When the door clicked shut, Rue let out a huge gulp of air. "She said there were more. She'll probably come back."

"What do we do?" Katniss asked.

"You sneak back up the stairs," Rue said, pointing. "Hang a left at the top and you'll be right back at the main office. If anyone sees you, you can say you were looking for a bathroom."

"What about you?"

"I'll put Peeta's file away and meet you by the bleachers. Miss Trinket wont' get suspicious if she sees me. I'm down here so much it's like a second dorm room."

Katniss glanced at Peeta's file with a small pang of regret. She wasn't ready to leave yet. Right around the time she'd resigned herself to checking out Peeta's file, she'd also started thinking about Gale's. Peeta was so cryptic-and unfortunatley, so was his file. Gale, on the other hand, seemed so open and easy to read that it made her curious. Katniss wondered what else she might be able to find out about him that he might not otherwise share. But one look at Rue's face told Katniss that they were short enough on time as it was.

"If there's more to find on Peeta, we'll find it," Rue assured her. "We'll keep looking." She gave Katniss a little shove toward the door. "Now, go."

Katniss moved quickly down the rank corridor, then pushed open the door to the stairs. The air at the base of the stairs was still humid, but she could feel it clear a little with each step she took. When she finally rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, she had to blink and rub her eyes to readjust to the bright sunlight flooding the hallway. She stumbled around the corner and though the whitewashed doors to the main lobby There she froze.

Two black stiletto books, crossed at the ankles, were propped up and sticking out of the phone booth, looking very Wicked Witch of the South. Katniss was hurrying toward the front door, hoping not to be spotted, when she realized that the stiletto boots were attatched to snakeskin leggings, which was attatched to an unsmiling Glimmer. The tiny silver camera was reating in her hand. She raised her eyes to Katniss, hung up the phone at her ear, and kicked her feet to the floor.

"Why do you look so guilty, Meat Loaf?" she asked, standing up with her hands on her hips. "Let me guess. You're still planning on ignoring my suggestion to stay away from Peeta."

This whole evil monster thing had to be an act. Glimmer had no way of knowing where Katniss had just been. She didn't know anything about Katniss. She had no cause to be so nasty. Since the first day of school, Katniss had never done a thing to Glimmer-except try to stay away from her.

"Are you forgetting what a hellish disaster it was the _last_ time you tried to force yourself on a guy who wasn't interested?" Glimmer's voice was sharp as a knife. "What was his name again? Taylor? Truman?"

_Thresh_. How could Glimmer know about Thresh? This was it, her deepest, darkest secret. The on thing Katniss wanted-_needed_-to keep under wraps at Capitol Cross. Now, not only did Evil Incarnate know about it, she felt no shame bringing it up, cruelly, cavalierly-in the middle of the school's main office.

Was it possible that Rue had been lying, that Katniss _wasn't_ the only person she shared her office secrets with? Was there any other logical explanation? Katniss gripped her arms over her chest, feeling as sick and exposed . . . and inexplicably guilty as she'd felt the night of the fire.

Glimmer cocked her head. "Finally," she said, sounding relieved. "_Something_ got through to you." She turned her back on Katniss and shoved open the front door. Then, just before she sauntered outside, she twisted her neck around and looked down her nose at Katniss. "So don't do to dear old Peeta what you did to what's-his-name. _Capiche?"_

Katniss started after her, but only got a few steps out the door before she realized she would probably crack if she tried to take on Glimmer now. The girl was just too vicious. Then, rubbing salt in Katniss' wound, Delly trotted down from the bleachers to meet Glimmer in the middle of the field. They were far enough away that both turned back to look at her. The ponytailed blond head craned toward the black pixie cut-the vilest tete-a-rete Katniss had ever seen.

She balled her sweating fists together, imagining Glimmer spilling everything she knew about Thresh to Delly, who would immediately run off to relay the news to Peeta. At the thought of this, a sick ache spread from Katniss' fingertips, up her arms, and into her chest. It was nothing compared to what Katniss was in here for.

"Heads up!" a voice called out. That had always been Katniss' least favourite thing to hear. Sporting equipment of all sorts had a funny way of careening right at her. She winced, looking up directly into the sun. She couldn't see anything and didn't even have time to cover her face before she felt a smack against the side of her head and a loud _thwunk_ ringing in her ears. _Ouch._

Finnick's football.

"_Nice_ one!" Finnick called out as the ball sailed directly back to him. Like she'd intended to do that. She rubbed her forehead and took a few wobbly steps.

A hand around her wrist. A spark of heat that made her gasp. She looked to see pale fingers around her arm, then up into Peeta's blue eyes.

"You okay?" he asked. When she nodded, he raised an eyebrow. "If you wanted to play football, you could have said so," he said. "I'd be happy to explain some of the finer points of the game, like how most people use less delicate body parts to return a kick."

He let go of her wrist, and Katniss thought he was reaching toward her, to stroke the stinging side of her face. For a second, she hung there, holding her breath. Then her chest collasped when Peeta's hand swept back to brush his own hair from his eyes.

That was when Katniss realized Peeta was making fun of her.

And why shouldn't he? There was probably an imprint of a football on the side of her face.

Glimmer and Delly were still staring-and now Peeta-with their arms crossed over their chest. "I think your girlfriend's getting jealous," Katniss said, gesturing at the pair.

"Which one?" he asked.

"I didn't realize they were both your girlfriends."

"Neither one of them is my girlfriend," he said simply. "I don't have a girlfriend. I meant, which one did you think was my girlfriend?"

Katniss was stunned. What about the whole whispered conversation with Delly? What about the way the girls were looking at them right now? Was Peeta lying?

He was looking at her funny. "Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought," he said. "Come on, let's take a walk, get you some air."

Katniss tried to locate the snide joke in Peeta's latest suggestion. Was he saying she was an airhead who needed more air? No, that didn't even make sense. She glanced at him. How could he look so simply sincere? And just when she was getting so used to the Mellark brush-off.

"Where?" Katniss asked cautiously. Because it would be too easy to feel gleeful right now about the fact that Peeta didn't have a girlfriend, about him wanting to go somewhere with her. There had to be a catch.

Peeta merely squinted at the girls across the field. "Someplace where we won't be watched."

Katniss had told Rue she'd meet her at the bleachers, but there'd be time to explain later, and of course Rue would understand. Katniss let Peeta lead her past the scruntinzing gaze of the girls and the little grove of half rotted peach trees, around the back of the old church-gym. They were coming up on a forest of gorgeously twisted live oak trees, which Katniss never would have guessed were tucked away there. Peeta looked back to make sure she was keeping up. She smiled as though following him were no big deal, but as she picked her way among the gnarled old roots, she couldn't help thinking about the shadows.

Now she was going into the bosky woods, the dark under the thick foliage pierced every so often by a small shaft of sunlight from above. The stench of rich, dank mud filled the air, and Katniss suddenly knew there was water nearby.

If she was the kind of person who prayed, this would be when she would pray for the shadows to stay away, just for this sliver of time she had with Peeta, so he wouldn't have to see how crazy she sometimes got. But Katniss have never prayed. Didn't know how. Instead, she just crossed her fingers.

"The forest opens right up here," Peeta said. They'd reached a clearing, and Katniss gasped in wonder.

Something had changed while she and Peeta had been walking through the forest, something more than just mere distance from phlegm-coloured Capitol Cross. Because when they came out of the trees and stood on this high red rock, it was like they were standing in the middle of a postcard, the kind that spun around on a metal rack in a small town drugstore, a dreamy image of an idyllic South that didn't exist anymore. Every colour of Katniss' eyes fell on was brilliant, brighter than it had seemed just a moment before. From the crystal blue lake just below them to the dense emerald forest overhead. When she stood on her toes, she could see the beginnings of a tawny-coloured salt marsh, one she knew gave way to the white foam of the ocean somewhere on the invisble horizon.

She glanced up at Peeta. He looked brilliant, too. His skin shone in this light, his eyes almost like sapphire gems. The feel of them on her face was a heavy, remarkable thing.

"What do you think?" he asked. He seemed so much more relazed now that they were away from everyone else.

"I've never seen anything so wonderful," she said, scanning the pristine surface of the lake, feeling the urge to dive in. About fifty feet out on the water was a large, flat, moss-covered rock. "What's that?"

"I'll show you," Peeta said, kicking off his shoes. Katniss tried unsuccessfully not to stare when he tugged his T-shirt over his head, exposing his muscled torso. "Come on," he said, making her realize how rooted to the spot she must have looked. "You can swim in that," he added, pointing at her grey tank top and cutoffs. "I'll even let you win this time."

She laughed. "Versus what? All those times I let you win?"

Peeta started to nod, then stopped himself abruptly. "No. Since you lost at the pool the other day."

For a second, Katniss had the urge to tell him _why_ she'd lost. Maybe they could laugh about the whole Delly-being-his-girlfriend misunderstanding. But by then, Peeta's arms were over his head and he was in the air, arcing and then falling, diving into the lake with a perfect little splash.

It was one of the most beautiful things Katniss had ever seen. He had a grace like none she'd ever witnessed before. Even the splash he'd made left a lovely little ring in her ears.

She wanted to be down there with him.

She tugged off her shoes and left them under the magnolia tree next to Peeta's, then stood at the edge of the rock. The drop was about twenty, the kind of high dive that had always mde Katniss' heart skip a beat.

A second later, his head popped up above the surface. He was grinning, treading water. "Don't make me change my mind about letting you win," he called.

Taking a deep breath, she aimed her fingers over Peeta's head and pushed off and up into a high swan dive. The fall lasted only a split second but it was the most delicious feeling, sailing through the sunny air, down, down, down.

_Splash._ The water was shockingly cold at first, then ideal a second later. Katniss surfaced to catch her breath, took one look at Peeta, and started in on her butterfly stroke. She pushed herself so hard that she lost track of him. She knew she was showing off and hoped he was watching. She drew closer and closer until she slammed her hand down on the rock-an instant before Peeta.

Both of them were panting as they hauled themselves up on the flat, sun-warmed surface. It's edges were slippery because of the moss, and Katniss had a hard time finding her grip. Peeta had no problem scaling the rock, though. He reached back and gave her a hand, then pulled her up to where she could kick a leg over the side.

By the time she'd hoisted herself fully out of the water, he was lying on his back, almost dry. Only his shorts gave away any hint that he'd just been in the lake. On the other hand, Katniss' wet clothes clung to her body, and her hair was dripping everywhere. Most guys would have seized the opportunity to ogle a dripping-wet girl, but Peeta lay back on the rock and closed his eyes, like he was giving her a moment to wring herself out-either out of kindness or lack of interest.

_Kindness,_ she decided, knowing she was being hopelessly romantic. But Peeta seemed so perceptive, he must have felt at least a little bit of what Katniss felt. Not just the attraction, the need to be near him when everyone around her was telling her to stay away, but that very real sense that they knew-really knew-each other from somewhere.

Peeta snapped open his eyes and smiled-the same smile as in the picture in his file. A rush of deja vu engulfed her so completely that Katniss had to lie down herself.

"What?" he asked, sounding nervous.

"Nothing."

"Katniss."

"I can't get it out of my head," she said, rolling over onto her side to face him. She didn't feel steady enough to sit up yet. "This feeling that I know you. That I've known you for a while."

The water lapped against the rock, splashing on Katniss' toes where they dangled over the edge. It was cold and spread goose bumps up her calves. Finally, Peeta spoke.

"Haven't we been through this already?" His tone had changed, like he was trying to laugh her off. He had changed, like he was trying to laugh her off. He sounded like a Hunger High guy: self satisfied, eternally bored, smug. "I'm flattered you feel like we have this connection, really. But you don't have to invent some forgotten history to get a guy to pay attention to you."

No. He thought she was lying about this weird feeling she couldn't shake as a way of coming on to him? She gritted her teeth, mortified.

"Why would I make this up?" she asked, squinting in the sunlight.

"You tell me," Peeta said. "No, actually, don't. It won't do any good." He sighed. "Look, I should have said this earlier when I started to see the signs."

Katniss sat up. Her heart was racing. Peeta saw the signs too.

"I know I brushed you off in the gym before," he said slowly, causing Katniss to lean forward, as if she could draw the words more quickly. "I should have just told you the truth."

Katniss waited.

"I got burned by a girl." He swung a hand into the water, plucked out a lily pad, and crumbled it in his hands. "Someone I really loved, not too long ago." He looked up at her and the sun filtered through a drop of water in his hair, making it gleam. "But I also don't want you to get your hopes up. I'm just not looking to get involved with anyone, not anytime soon."

She looked away, out at the still, midnight-blue water where only minutes ago they'd been laughing and splashing around. The lake showed no signs of that fun anymore. Neither did Peeta's face.

Well, Katniss had been burned, too. Maybe if she told him about Thresh and how horrible everything had been Peeta would open up about his past. But then again, she already knew she couldn't stand hearing about his past with someone else. The thought of him with another girl-she pictured Delly, Glimmer, a montage of smiling faces, big eyes, long hair-was enough to make her feel nauseated.

His bad-breakup story should have justified everything. But it didn't. Peeta had been so strange to her from the start. Flipping her off one day, before they'd even been introduced, then protecting her from the statue in the cemetery the next. Now he'd brought her out here to the lake-alone. He was all over the place.

Peeta's head was lowered but his eyes were staring up at her. "Not a good enough answer?" he asked, almost like he knew what she was thinking.

"I still feel like there's something you're not telling me," she said.

All of this couldn't be explained away by one bad heartbreak, Katniss knew. She had experience in that department.

His back was to her and he was looking toward the path they'd taken to the lake. After a while, he laughed bitterly. "Of course there are things I'm not telling you. I barely know you. I'm not sure why you think I owe you anything." He got to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to get back," he said.

"Don't go," she whispered, but he didn't seem to hear.

She watched, chest heaving, as Peeta dove into the water.

He glanced back at her once, about midway, and gave her a definitive wave goodbye.

Then her heart swelled as he circled his arms over his head in a perfect butterfly stroke. As empty as she felt inside, she couldn't help admiring it. So clean, so effortless, it hardly looked like swimming at all. By no time he had reached the shore, making the distance between them seem much shorter than it looked to Katniss. He'd appeared so leisurely as he swam, but there was no way he could have reached the other side that quickly unless he'd really been tearing through the water.

How urgent was it for him to get away from her?

She watched-feeling a confusing mix of deep embarrassment and even deeper temptation-as Peeta hoisted himself back up onto the shore. A shaft of sunlight bit through the trees and framed his silhoutte with a glowing radiance, and Katniss had to squint at the sight before her eyes.

She wondered whether the football to her head had shaken up her vision. Or whether what she thought she was seeing was a mirage. A trick of the late-afternoon sunlight.

She stood up on the rock to get a better look.

All he was doing was shaking the water from his wet head, but a glaze of droplets seemed to hover over him, outside him, defying gravity in a wide span across his arms.

The way the water shimmered in the sunlight, it almost looked like he had wings.

_**A/N: I can practically see the confused faces! lol, fingers crossed I'll get the next chapter up today! *Crosses fingers* **_

_**Please R&R :D**_


	10. State of Innocence

_**A/N: Yay! I got the second one done! Heh, heh, here you go guys! Your reward for having to wait a day! ^_^**_

_**All righs to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Nine**

**State of Innocence**

On Monday evening, Miss Trinket stood behind a podium at the head of the largest classroom in Augustine, attempting to make shadow puppets with her hands. She'd called a last-minute study session for the students in her religion class before the next day's midterm, and since Katniss had already missed a full month of class, she figured she had a lot to catch up on.

Which explained why she was the only one even pretending to take notes. None of the other students even noticed that the evening sun was trickling through the narrow western windows was undermining Miss Trinket's handcrafted lightbox stage. And Katniss didn't want to call attention to the fact that she was paying attention by standing up to draw the dusty blinds.

When the sun brushed the back of Katniss' neck, it struck her just how long she'd been sitting in this room. She'd watched the eastern sun glow like a mane around Mr. Abernathy's thinning hair that morning during world history. She'd suffered the sweltering midafternoon heat during biology with Paylor. It was nearly evening now. The sun had looped the entire campus, and Katniss had barely left her desk. Her body felt as stiff as the metal chair she was sitting in, her mind as dull as the pencil she'd given up using to take notes.

What was up with these shadow puppets? Were she and the other students, like, five years old?

But then seh felt guilty. Of all the faculty here, Miss Trinket was by far the nicest, even gently pulling Katniss aside the other day to discuss how far beind she was in the writing of her family tree paper. Katniss had to feign astonished gratitude when Miss Trinket walked her through the hour's worth of database instructions again. She felt a little ashamed, but playing dumb was far superior to admitting she'd been too busy obsessing over a certain male classmate to devote any time to her research.

Now Miss Trinket stood in her long black crepe dress, elegantly interlocking her thumbs and raising her hands in the air, preparing for the next pose. Outside the window, a cloud crossed over the sun. Katniss zoned back in on the lecture when she noticed there was suddenly an actual shadow visible on the wall behind Miss Trinket.

"As you remember from your reading of _Paradise Lost_ last year, when God gave his angels their own will," Miss Trinket said, breathing into the mircrophone clipped on her ivory lapel and flapping her thin fingers like a perfect angel's wings, "there was _one_ who crossed the line." Miss Trinket's voice dropped dramatically, and Katniss watched as she twisted up her index fingers so the angel's wings transformed into devil's horns.

Behind Katniss, someone muttered, "Big deal, that's the oldest trick in the book."

From the moment Miss Trinket had kicked off her lecture, it seemed like at least one person in the room took issure with every word that came out of her mouth. Maybe it was because Katniss hadn't had a religious upbringing like the rest of them, or maybe it was because she felt sorry for Miss Trinket, but she felt a growing urge to turn around and shush the hecklers.

She was cranky. Tired. Hungry. Instead of filing down to dinner with the rest of the school, the twenty students enrolled in Miss Trinket's religion class had been informed that if they were attending the "optional"-a sad misnormer, Rue informed her-study session, their meal would be served in the classroom where the session was being held, to save time.

The meal-not dinner, not even lunch, just a generic late-afternoon fill up-had been a strange experience for Katniss, who had a hard enough time finding anything she could eat in the meat-centric cafeteria. Alma had just wheeled in a cart of depressing sandwiches and some pitchers of lukewarm water.

The sandwiches had all been mystery cold cuts, mayo, and cheese, and Katniss had watched enviously as Rue clamped through one after another, leaving tooth marked rings of crust as she ate. Katniss had been on the verge of de-bologna-ing a sandwich when Gale shouldered up next to her. He'd opened his fist to expose a small cluster of fresh figs. Their deep purple skins looked like jewels in his hand.

"What's this?" she'd asked, sucking in a smile.

"Can't live on bread alone, can you?" he'd said.

"Don't eat those." Delly had swooped in, lifting the figs out of Katniss' fingers and tossing them in the trash. She'd interuppted yet another private conversation and replaced the empty space in Katinss' palm with a handful of peanut M&M's from a vending machine sack. Delly wore a rainbow-coloured headband. Katniss imagined yanking the thing from her head and pitching it in the trash.

"She's right Katniss." Johanna had appeared, glowering at Gale. "Who knows what he drugged these with."

Katniss had laughed, because of course Johanna was joking, but when no one else smiled, she shut up and slipped the M&M's into her pocket just as Miss Trinket called for them all to take their seats.

~xXx~

What felt like hours later, they were still trapped in the classroom and Miss Trinket had only gotten from the Dawn of Creation to the war in Heaven. They weren't even at Adam and Eve. Katniss' stomach rumbled in protest.

"And do we all know who the wicked angel was who battled God?" Miss Trinket asked, like she was reading a picture book to a bunch of children at the library. Katniss half expected the room to sing out a juvenile _Yes, Miss Trinket._

"Anyone?" Miss Trinket asked again.

"Finnick!" Johanna hooted through her hands.

"That's right," Miss Trinket said, her head bobbing in a saintly nod. She was just left hard of hearing. "We call him Satan now, but over the years he's worked under many guises-Mephistropheles, or Belial, even Lucifer to some."

Glimmer, who'd been sitting in front of Katniss, rocking the back of her chair against Katniss' desk for the past hour with the express purpose of driving her insane, promptly dropped a slip of paper over her shoulder onto Kantniss' desk.

_Lucinda . . . Lucifer . . . Any relation?_

How in the world did she know her middle name? Her handwriting was dark and angry and frenetic. Katniss could see her high cheekbones rise up in a sneer. In a moment of hungry weakness, Katniss started furiously scribbling an answer on the back of Glimmer's note. That she was given the name Lucinda for Lucinda Williams, the greatest living female singer-songwriter whose almost-rained-out concert was the site of her parent's first encounter. That after her mum slipped on a plastic cup, tumbled down the mudslide, and landed in her father's arms, she hadn't left those arms for twenty years. That _her_ name stood for something romantic and what did muckle-mouthed Glimmer have to show for herself? And anyway, that if there was anyone in this entire school who came close to resembling Satan, it wasn't the receiver of the note, it was the sender.

Her eyes drilled into the back of Glimmer's blonde head. Katniss was ready to pelt her with the folded up piece of paper and take her chances with Glimmer's temper when Miss Trinket pulled her attention to the light box.

She had both hands raised over her head, palms up and cupping the air. As she lowered them, the shadows of her fingers on the wall looked miraculously like flailing arms arms and legs, like someone jumping off a bridge or out of the building. The sight was so bizarre, so dark and yet so well rendered, it unnerved Katniss. She couldn't turn away.

"For nine days and nine nights," Miss Trinket said, "Satan and his angels fell, further and further from Heaven."

The words jogged something in Katniss' memory. She looked two rows over at Peeta, who met her eyes for half a second before burying his face in his notebook. But the second's glance had been enough, and all at once it came back to her: the dream she'd had the night before.

It had been a revisionist of her and Peeta at the lake. But in the dream, when Peeta said goodbye and dove into the water, Katniss had the courage to go after him. The water was warm, so comfortable that she hadn't even felt wet, and schools of violet fish swarmed all around her. She was swimming as fast as she could, and at first she thought the fish were helping push her toward Peeta and the shore. But soon the masses of fish began to darken and cloud her vision, and she couldn't see him anymore. The fish became shadowy and vicious-looking, and drew closer and closer till she couldn't see anything, and she'd felt herself sinking, slipping away, down into the silty depths of the lake. It wasn't a question of not being able to breathe, it was a question of never being able to rise back up. It was a question losing Peeta forever.

Then, from below, Peeta had appeared, his arms spread out like sails. They scattered the shadow fish and enveloped Katniss, and together the two of them soared back to the surface. They broke through the water, higher, higher, passing the rock and the magnolia tree where they'd left their shoes. A second later, they were so high that Katniss couldn't even see the ground.

"And they landed," Miss Trinket said, resting her hands on the podium, "in the blazing pits of Hell."

Katniss closed her eyes and exhaled. It had only been a dream. Unfortunately, this was her reality.

She sighed and rested her chin on her hands, remembering her forgotten response to Glimmer's note. It was folded in her hands. It seemed stupid now and rash. Better not to answer, for Glimmer not to know she'd even affected Katniss.

A paper airplane came to rest on her left forearm. She looked to the far left corner of the class, where Johanna sat holding an exaggerated winking pose.

_I take it you're not daydreaming about Satan. Where'd you and PM scurry off to Saturday afternoon?_

Katniss hadn't had a chance to talk to Johanna alone all day. But how would Johanna have known that Katniss went off with Peeta? While Miss Trinket busied herself with a shadow puppet focused representation of the nine circles of hell, Katniss watched Johanna sail another perfectly aimed plane at her desk.

So did Glimmer.

She reached up just in time to snag the plane between her slick black-painted fingernails, but Katniss was not going to let her win this one. She snatched the plane back from Glimmer's grip, ripping its wing loudly down the middle. Katniss had exactly enough time to pocket the torn note before Miss Trinket whipped around.

"Katniss and Glimmer," she said, pursing her lips and putting her hands on the podium. "I would hope whatever you two feel the need to discuss in a disrespectful manner of passing notes could be said before the entire class."

Katniss' mind raced. If she didn't come up with something fast, Glimmer would, and there was no telling what that could be.

"G-Glimmer was just saying," Katniss stammered, "that she disagrees with you view of how Hell is broken down. She has her own ideas."

"Well, Glimmer, if you have an alternate schema of the underworld, I'd certainly like to hear it."

"What the hell," Glimmer muttered under her breath. She cleared her throat and stood up. "Well, you've described Lucifer's mouth as the lowest place in the inferno, which is why all the traitors end up there. But for me," she said, like she'd rehearsed the lines, "I think the most tortured place in Hell"-she took a long, sweeping look back at Katniss-"should be reserved not for the traitors, but for cowards. The weakest, more spineless losers. Because it seems to me that traitors? At least they made a choice. But cowards? They just run around biting her fingernails, totally afraid to do anything. Which is totally worse." She coughed out, "Katniss!" and cleared her throat. "But that's just my opinion."

"Thank you Glimmer," Miss Trinket said carefully. "I'm sure we all feel very enlightened."

Katniss didn't. She had stopped listening in the middle of Glimmer's rant, when she felt an eerie, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The shadows. She sensed them before she saw them, bubbling up like tar from the ground. A tentacle of darkness curled around her wrist, and Katniss looked down in terror. It was trying to weasel its way into her pocket. It was going for Johanna's paper plane. She hadn't even read it yet! She stuffed her fist deep into her pocket and used to fingers and all her willpower to pinch the shadow as hard as she could.

An amazing thing happened: The shadow recoiled, rearing back like an injured dog. It was the first time Katniss had ever been able to do that.

Across the room, she met Johanna's eye. Johanna's head was cocked to the side and her mouth was hanging open.

The note-she must still be waiting for Katniss to read the note.

Miss Trinket flicked off the lightbox. "I think my arthritis has had enough of Hell for one night." She chuckled, encouraging the brain-numbed students to chuckle with her. "If you'll all reread the seven critical essays I've assigned on _Paradise Lost_. I think you'll be more than prepared for tomorrow's exam."

As the other students rushed to pack up their bags and peel out of the room, Katniss unfolded Johanna's note:

_Tell me he didn't give you that lame "I've been burned before" bit._

Ouch. She definetly needed to take to Johanna and find out exactly what she knew about Peeta. But first . . .

He was standing before her. His silver belt buckle shone at eye level. She took a deep breath and looked up at his face.

Peeta's violet-flecked blue eyes looked rested. She hadn't spoken to him in two days, since he'd left her at the lake. It was as if the time he'd spent away from her had rejuvenated him. Katniss realized she still had Johanna's revealing note spread open on her desk. She swallowed hard and tucked it back into her pocket.

"I wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly the other day," Peeta said, sounding oddly formal. Katniss didn't know if she was supposed to accept his apology, but he didn't give her a chance to respond. "I take it you made it back to dry land okay?"

She tried to smile. It crossed her mind to tell Peeta about the dream she'd hand, but luckily, she realized that would be totally weird.

"What did you think about the review session?" Peeta seemed withdrawn, stiff, like they'd never spoken before. Maybe he was joking.

"It was torture," Katniss answered. It had always annoyed Katniss when smart girls pretended they weren't something just because they assumed that was what they would want to hear. But Katniss was pretending; it really _had_ been torture.

"Good," Peeta said, sounding pleased.

"You hated it, too?"

"No," he said crypictally, and Katniss now wished she'd tried to sound more interested than she actually was.

"So . . . you liked it," she said, wanting to say something, anything, to keep him there next to her, talking. "What did you like about it exactly?"

"Maybe 'like' isn't the right word." After a long pause, he said, "It's in my family . . . studying these things. I guess I can't help feeling a connection."

It took a moment for his words to fully register with Katniss. Her mind traveled into the fusty old storage basement where she'd glimpsed Peeta's single-page file. The file that claimed that Peeta Mellark had spent most of his life in Los Angeles County Orphanage.

"I didn't know you had a family," she said.

"Why would you?" Peeta scoffed.

"I don't know . . . So, I mean, do you?"

"The question is why you presume you know anything about my family-or me-at all?"

Katniss felt her stomach plummet. She saw the _Warning: Stalker Alert_ flash in Peeta's alarmed eyes. And she knew she'd botched things with him yet again.

"P." Finnick came up from behind them and put his hand on Peeta's T-shirt clad shoulder. "You want to stick around to see if there's another yearlong lecture, or are we going to roll?"

"Yeah," Peeta said softly, giving Katniss a final sideways glance. "Let's get out of here."

Of course-obviously-she should have bolted several minutes ago. Like, at the first instinct to divulge any details of Peeta's file. A smart, normal person would have dodged the conversation, or changed the subject to something less freakish, or at the very least, kept her big mouth shut.

But Katniss was proving day after day that-especially when it came to Peeta-she was incapable of doing anything that fell under the category of "normal" or "smart."

She watched as Peeta walked away with Finnick. He didn't look back, and every step he took away from her made her feel more and more freakishly alone.

_**A/N: Sorry again for not updating yesterday. I hope this made up for it :)**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	11. Where there's Smoke

_**A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long. Life got in the way, ya know? Anyway, from now on, this story will be updated on Fridays as I no longer have the time to do daily updates. Is that okay? :-)**_

_**All rights to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Ten**

**Where there's Smoke**

"What are you waiting for?" Rue asked barely a second after Peeta left with Finnick. "Let's go." She tugged Katniss' hand.

"Go where?" Katniss asked. Her heart was still pounding from the conversation with Peeta-and from the view of him leaving. The shape of his sculpted shoulders cut in the hall seemed to be bigger than Peeta himself.

Rue rapped lightly on the side of Katniss' head. "Hello? The library, like I said in my note . . ." she took in Katniss' blank expression. "You didn't get either one of my two notes?" She slapped her leg, frustrated. "But I handed them to Blight to pass to Gale to pass to you."

"Pony Express." Gale wedged his way in front of Rue and presented Katniss with two folded up scraps of paper held between his index and middle finger.

"Give me a break. Did you horse die of exhaustion on the road?" Rue huffed, snagging her notes. "I gave you those like an hour ago. What took so long? You didn't read them-"

"Of course not." Gale pressed a hand to his broad chest, offended. He wore a thick black ring on his middle finger. "If you remember, Katniss got in trouble for passing notes with Glimmer-"

"I was _not_ passing notes with Glimmer-"

"Regardless," Gale said, lifting the notes back out of Rue's hand and delievering them, finally to Katniss. "I was only looking out for your best interests. Waiting for the right opportunity."

"Well thank you." Katniss tucked the notes into her pocket and gave Rue a what-are-ya-gonna-do shrug.

"Speaking of waiting for the right time," he said, "I was out the other day and saw this." He produced a small red velvet jewelry box and held it open for Katniss to see. Rue nudged around Katniss' shoulder so she could have a look.

Inside, a thin gold chain held a small circular pendant with a carved line down its middle and a small serpent's head at the tip. Katniss looked up at him. Was he making fun of her? He touched the pendant. "I thought, after the other day . . . I wanted to help you face your fear," he said, sounding almost nervous, afraid that she might not accept. Should she accept? "Only kidding. I just liked it. It's unique, it reminded me of you."

It _was_ unique. And very beautiful, and it made Katniss feel strangely unworthy.

"You went shopping?" she found herself asking, because it was easier to discuss how Gale had left campus than it would have been to ask _Why me?_ "I thought the point of reform school is that we're all stuck here?"

Gale lifted his chin slightly and smiled with his eyes. "There are ways," he said quietly. "I'll show you sometime. I could show you-tonight?"

"Gale, honey," a voice said behind him. It was Delly, tapping his shoulder. A thin section at the front of her hair was French-braided and pinned behind her ear, like a perfect little headband. Katniss stared at it jealously.

"I need your help setting up," Delly purred.

Katniss looked around and realied they were the only four people left in the classroom.

"Having a little party in my room later," Delly said, pressing her chin into Gale's shoulder to address Katniss. "Y'all are coming right?" Delly, whose mouth always looked sticky with lipgloass and whose blond hair never failed to swoosh right in the second a guy started talking to Katniss. Even though Peeta had said there was nothing going on between them, Katniss knew she was never going to be friends with this girl.

Then again, you didn't have to like someone to go to her party, especially when certain other people you did like would probably be there . . .

Or should she take Gale up on his offer? Was he really suggesting they sneak out? Only yesterday a rumor had flown around the classroom when Enobaria and Brutus, the tongue pierced couple, didn't show up for Miss Trinket's class. Apparently, they'd tried to leave campus in the middle of the night, a secret tryst gone wrong-and now they were in some type of solitary confinement whose location even Rue didn't know about.

The weirdest part was, Miss Trinket-who usually had no tolerance for whispering-hadn't shut the madly gossiping students up during her lesson. It was almost like the faculty _wanted_ the students to imagine the worst possible punishment for breaking anoy of their dictatorial rules.

Katniss swallowed, look up at Gale. He offered his elbow, ignoring Delly and Rue entirely. "How about it, kid?" he asked, sounding so charmingly classic Hollywood that Katniss forgot about what happened to Enobaria and Brutus.

"Sorry," Rue butted in, answering for both of them and steering Katniss away by the elbow. "But we have other plans."

Gale looked at Rue like he was trying to figure out where she'd come from all of a sudden. He had a way of making Katniss feel like a better, cooler version of herself. And she had a way of crossing his path right after Peeta had made her feel exactly the oppisote. But Delly was hovering beside him, and Rue's tug was growing stronger, so finally Katniss just waved the hand still clutching Gale's gift. "Um, maybe next time! Thanks for the necklace!"

Leaving Gale and Delly confused in the classroom behind them, Rue and Katniss booked it out of Augustine. It felt creepy to be alone in the dark building so late, and Katniss could tell from the hurried slap of Rue's sandals on the stairs in front of her that she felt it, too.

Outside, it was windy. An owl crooned in its palmetto tree. When they passed under the oaks alongside the building, straggly tendrils of Spanish moss brushed them like tangled strands of hair.

_"Maybe next time?"_ Rue mimicked Katniss' voice. "What was that about?"

"Nothing . . . I don't know." Katniss wanted to change the subject. "You make us sound very posh, Rue," she said, laughing as they trudged along the commons. "Other plans . . . I thought you had fun at the party last week."

"If you'd ever get around to reading any recent corrospondence, you'd see why we have more important things on our plate."

Katniss emptied her pockets, rediscovered the five uneaten M&M's, and shared them with Rue, who expressed a very Rue-like sentiment that she hoped they had come from a sanitary place, but ate them anyway.

Katniss unfolded the first of Rue's notes, which looked like a photocopied page from one of the files in the underground archieve:

**Delly Cartwright**

**Gale Hawthrone **

**Katniss Everdeen **

**Blight Hammond**

**PREVIOUS LOCATIONS:**

**All in the Northeast, except for B. Hammond **

**(Orlando, Florida)**

**Johanna Mason**

**Peeta Mellark**

**Mary Margaret Zane**

**PREVIOUS LOCATIONS:**

**Los Angeles, California**

Katniss' group was noted as arriving at Capitol Cross on September 15 of this year. The second group had arrived March 15, three years earlier.

"Who's Mary Margaret Zane?" Katniss asked, pointing.

"Only the virtuous Glimmer," Rue said.

Glimmer's name was Mary Margaret? "No, wonder she's so pissed off at the world," Katniss said. "So where'd you get all this?"

"I dug it out from one of the boxes Miss Trinket brought down the other day," Rue said. "That's Miss Trinket's handwriting."

Katniss looked up at her. "What does it mean? Why would she need to record all this? I thought they had all our arrival dates sepearately in our files."

"They do. I can't figure out, either," Rue said. "And I mean, even though you showed up at the same time as those other kids, it's not like you have anything in common with them."

"I couldn't have _less_ in common with them," Katniss said, envisioning the coy look Delly always had glued to her face.

Rue stracthed her chin. "But when Johanna, Glimmer, and Peeta showed up, they already knew each other. I think they came from the same halfway house in L.A."

Somewhere there was a key to Peeta's story. There had to be more to him than a halfway house in California. But thinking back to his reaction-that washed-out horror that Katniss might take an interest in knowing anything about him-well, it made her feel like everything she and Rue were doing was futile and immature.

"What's the point in all this?" Katniss asked, suddenly annoyed.

"Why Miss Trinket would be collating all that information I can't figure out. Though Miss Trinket arrived at Capitol Corss the same day as Johanna, Peeta and Glimmer . . ." Rue trailed off. "Who knows? Maybe it doesn't mean anything. There's just so little mention of Peeta in the archives, I figured I'd show you everything I came up with. Hence exhibit B." She pointed toward the second note in Katniss' hand.

Katniss sighed. Part of her wanted to quit the search and stop feeling embarrassed about Peeta. The pushier part of her still yearned to get to know him better . . . which, strangely, was far easier to do when he wasn't technically present to give her new reasons to feel embarrassed.

She looked down at the note, a photocopy of an old fashioned card from the library.

**Mellark. P. The Watchers: Myth in Medieval Europe. Seraphim Press, Rome, 1755. Call out no: R999. 318 GRI.**

"Sounds like Peeta's ancestors was a scholar," Rue said, reading over Katniss' shoulder.

"This must have been what he meant," Katniss said under her breath. She looked at Rue. "He told me studying religion was in his family. This must be what he meant."

"I thought he was an orphan-"

"Don't ask," Katniss said, waving her off. "Touchy subject with him." She ran her finger over the book's title. "What's a watcher?"

"Only one way to find out," Rue said. "Though we may live to regret it. 'Cause this sounds like possibly the most boring book ever. Still," she added, dusting her knuckles on her shirt. "I took the liberty of checking the catalog. The book should be in the stacks. You can thank me later."

"You're good." Katniss grinned. She was eager to get up to the library. If someone from Peeta's family had written a book, it couldn't possibly be boring. Or not to Katniss, anyway. But then she looked down at the other thing still in her hand. The velvet jewelry box from Gale.

"What do you think this means?" she asked Rue as they started walking up the mosaic-tiled stairs to the library.

Rue shrugged. "Your feelings on snakes are -"

"Hatred, agony, extreme paranoia, and digust," Katniss listed.

"Maybe it's like . . . okay, I used to be scared of cactus. Couldn't go near 'em-don't laugh, have you ever pricked yourself on one of those things? They stay in your skin for days. Anyway, one year, for my birthday, my dad bought me eleven catus plants. At first I wanted to chuck them at him. But then, you know, I got used to them. I stopped flipping out anytime I was near one. In the end, it totally worked."

"So you're saying Gale's gift," Katniss said, "is actually really sweet?"

"I guess," Rue said. "But if I'd known he had the hots for you, I would _not_ have trusted him with our private correspondence. Sorry about that."

"He does not have the hots for me," Katniss started to say, fingering the gold chain inside the box, imagining how it would look on her skin. She hadn't told Rue anything about her picnic with Gale because-well, she didn't really know why. It had to do with Peeta, and Katniss still couldn't figure out where she stood-or wanted to stand-with either of them.

"Ha." Rue cackled. "Which means you kinda like him! Cheating on Peeta. I can't keep up with you and your men."

"As if anything is going on with _either_ of them," Katniss said glumly. "Do you think Gale read the notes?"

"If he did, and he still gave you that necklacke," Rue said, "then he's really into you."

They stepped inside the library, and the heavy double doors thudded behind them. The sound echoed through the room. Miss Trinket looked up from the mounds of paper covering her lamplit desk.

"Oh, hello, girls," she said, beaming so broadly that Katniss felt guilty all over again for zoning out during her lecture. "I hope you enjoyed my brief review session!"

"Very much." Katniss nodded, though there had been nothing brief about it. "We came here to review a few more things before the exam."

"That's right," Rue chimed in. "You inspired us."

"How wonderful!" Miss Trinket rustled through her paperwork. "I've got a further reading list somewhere. I'd be happy to make you a copy.

"Great," Rue lied, giving Katniss a small push toward the stacks. "We'll let you know if we need it!"

Beyond Miss Trinket's desk, the library was quiet. Katniss and Rue eyed the call muners as they passed shelf after shelf toward the books on religion. The energy saving lights had motion detectors and were supposed to turn on as they crossed each aisle, but only about half f them worked. Katniss realized that Rue was still holding onto her arm, then realized she didn't want her to let go.

The girls came to the usually crowded study sction, where only one table lamp burned. Everyone must have been at Delly's party. Everyone except for Blight. He had his feet kicked up on the chair across from him and seemed to be reading a coffee-table sized world atlas. When the girls walked by him, he looked up with a wan expression that was either very lonely or slightly annoyed at being disturbed.

"You guys are here late," he said flatly.

"So are you," Rue retorted, sticking out her tongue dramatically.

When they'd put a few shelves between them and Blight, Katniss raised an eyebrow at Rue. "What was _that_?"

"What?" Rue sulked. "He flirts with me." She crossed her arms over her chest and blew a brown curlicue of hair out of her eyes. "As if."

"Are you in fourth grade?" Katniss teased.

Rue stuck her pointer finger up at Katniss with an intensity that would have made Katniss jump if she hadn't of been giggling so much. "Do you know anyone else who would delve into Peeta Mellark's family history with you? Didn't think so. Leave me alone."

By then, they had reached the far back corner of the library, where all the 999 books were arranged along a single pewter-coloured bookshelf. Rue crouched down and traced the books' spines with her finger. Katniss felt a tremor, like someone was running their finger along her neck. She craned her head around and saw a whisp of grey. Not black, like the shadows usually were, but lighter, thinner. Just as unwelcome.

She watched, wide-eyed, as the shadow stretched out in a long, curling strand directly over Rue's head. It came down slowly, like a threaded needle, and Katniss didn't want to think about what might happen if it touched her friend. The other day at the gym had been the first time the shadows had touched her-and she still felt violated, almost dirty from it. She didn't know what else they could do.

Nervous, unsteady, Katniss stretched her arm out like a baseball bat. She took a deep breath and swung forward. She bristled at the icy contact as she knocked the shadow away-and clocked Rue upside the head.

Rue pressed her hands against her skull and looked back at Katniss in shock. "_What_ is wrong with you?"

Katniss sank down next to her and smoothed the top of Rue's hair. "I'm so sorry. There was . . . I thought I saw a bee . . . land on your head. I panicked. I didn't want to to sting you."

She could feel how utterly, utterly lame this excuse was and waited for her friend to tell her she was crazy-what would a bee be doing in a library? She waited for Rue to walk out. But Rue's face softened. She took Katniss' hand on both of hers and shook it. "Bees terrify me too," she said. "I'm deathly allergic. You basically just saved my life."

It was like they were having a huge bonding momnet-only they weren't, because Katniss was wholly consumed by the shadows. If only there were a way to push them from her mind, to shrug the shadow thing off, without shrugging off Rue.

Katniss had a strong, uneasy feeling about this light grey shadow. The uniformity of the shadows had never been comforting, but these variations ere a new level of discocerting. Did it mean more kinds of shadows were finding their way to her? Or was she just getting better at distinguishing them? And what about that weird moment in Miss Trinket's lecture, when she'd actually pinched a shadow back before it could enter her pocket? She'd done it without thinking, and had had no reason to expect that her tow fingers would be a match for a shadow, but they had been-she glanced around the stacks-at least temporarily.

She wondered whether she had set some kind of precedent for interacting with the shadows. Except to call what she'd done to the shadow hovering over Rue's head "interacting"-even Katniss knew that was a euphemism. A cold, sick feeling grew in her gut when she realized that she'd started doing to the shadows was more like . . . fighting them off.

"It's the strangest thing," Rue spoke up from the floor. "It should be right here between _The Dictionary of Angels_ and this god-awful Billy Graham fire-and-brimstone thing." She looked up at Katniss. "But it's gone."

"I thought you said-"

"I did. The computer had it listed as one the shelves when I looked this afternoon, but we can't get online this late to check again."

"Go ask Blight-o out there," Katniss suggested. "Maybe he's using it as a cover for his _Playboys._"

"Gross." Rue whacked her on the thigh.

Katniss knew she'd only made the joke to try and down-play her disappointment. It was just so frustrating. She couldn't find out anything about Peeta without running against a wall. She didn't know what she'd find inside the pages of his great-great-whatever's book, but at least it would tell her _something_ more about Peeta. Which had to be better than nothing.

"Stay here," Rue said, standing up. "I'm going to ask Miss Trinket if anyone's checked it out today."

Katniss watched her traipse back up the long aisle toward the front desk. She laughed when Rue sped up to pass the area Blight was sitting.

Alone in the back corner, Katniss figured out some of the other books on the shelves. She did a quick mental run through of the student body at Capitol Cross, but she couldn't think of any likely candidates for checking out an old religious book. Maybe Miss Trinket had used it as reference for her review session earlier. Katniss wondered what it must have been like for Peeta to sit there, listening to the librarian talk about things that had probably been dinner table topics of conversation when he was growing up. Katniss wanted to know what his childhood was like. What happened to his family? Had his upbringing at the orphange been religious? Or was his childhood anything likes hers, in which the only things pursued religiously were good grades and academic honours? She wanted to know where Peeta had ever read this book by his ancestor and what he'd thought about it, and if he liked writing himself. She wanted to know what he was doing right now at Delly's party and when his birthday was and what size shoe he wore and whether he ever wasted a single second of his time wondering about her.

Katniss shook her head. This train of thought was heading straight for Pity City, and she wanted to get off. She pulled the first book off the shelf-the very unfascinating cloth-covered _Dictionary of Angels-_and decided to distract herself by reading until Rue came back.

She'd gotten as far as the fallen angels of Abbadon, who regretted siding with Satan and constantly bemoaned his bad decision-_yawn_-when a blaring noise rang out over her head. Katniss looked up to see the red flash of the fire alarm.

"Alert, Alert," a monotone robotic voice announced over a loudspeaker. "The fire alarm has been activated. Evacuate the building."

Katniss slid the book back off the shelf and pulled herself to her feet. They'd done this kind of thing at Hunger High all the time. After a while, it had reached the point where not even the teachers had heeded the monthly fire drills, so the fire department started really setting off the alarm just to get people to respond. Katniss could totally see administrators at Capitol Cross pulling a similar stunt. But when she started walking toward the exit, she was surprised to find coughing. There was actual smoke inside the library.

"Rue?" she called out, hearing her voice echo in her ears. She knew she'd be drowned out by the piercing shriek of the alarm.

The acrid smell of smoke dropped her instantly back into the blaze that night with Thresh. Images and sounds flooded her mind, things she'd stuffed so deep inside her memory they might as well have been obliterated. Until now.

The shocking whites of Thresh's eyes against the orange glow. The individual tendrils of flame as the fire spread through each one of his fingers. The shrill, unending scream that rang in her head like a siren long after Thresh had given up. And the whole time, she'd stood there watching, she couldn't stop from watching, frozen in that bath of heat. She hadn't been able to move. She hadn't been able to do a thing to help him. So he'd died.

She felt a hand grip her left wrist and spun around, expecting to see Rue. It was Blight. The whites of his own eyes were huge, and he was coughing, too.

"We have to get out of here," he said, breathing fast. "I think there's an exit toward the back."

"What about Rue, and Miss Trinket?" Katniss asked. She was feeling weak and dizzy. She rubbed her eyes. "They were over there." When she pointed toward the entrance she could see how much smoke was in that direction.

Blight looked doubtful for a second, but then he nodded. "Okay," he said, keeping a hold of her wrist as they crouched down and sprinted toward the front doors of the library. They took a right when one aisle looked paticulary thick with smoke, then found themsevles facing a wall of books without a clue which way to run. Both of them stopped to gasp. The smoke that only a moment earlier had hovered just above their heads now pressed low against their shoulders.

Even ducking below it, they were choking. And they couldn't see as much as a few feet in front of them. Making sure to keep a hold of Blight, Katniss spun around in a circle, suddenly unsure which direction they'd come from. She reached out and felt the hot metal shelf of one of the stacks. She couldn't even make out the letters on the spines. Were they in the D section or the O's?

There was no clues to guide them toward Rue and Miss Trinket, and no clues to guide them to the exit, either. Katniss felt a surge of panic course through her, making it feel more difficult to breathe.

"They must have already gone out the front doors!" Blight shouted, sounding only half convinced. "We have to turn back!"

Katniss bit her lip. If anything happened to Rue . . .

She could barely see Blight, who was standing right in front of her. He was right, but which way was back? Katniss nodded mutely, and felt his hand tugging on hers.

For a long time, she moved without knowing they were going, but as they ran, the smoke lifted, little by little, until, eventually, she saw the red glow of an emergency exit sign. Katniss breathed a sigh of relief as Blight fumbled for the door handle and finally pushed it open.

They were in a hallway Katniss had never seen before. Blight slammed the door shut behind them. They gasped and filled their lungs with clean air. It tasted so good, Katniss wanted to sink her teeth into it, to drink a gallon of it, bathe herself in it. She and Blight both coughed the smoke out of their lungs until they started laughing, an uneasy, only half-relieved laugh. They laughed until she was crying. But even when Katniss finished crying and coughing, her eyes continued to tear.

How could she breathe in this air when she didn't even know what happened to Rue? If Rue hadn't made it out-if she was collapsed somewhere inside-then Katniss had failed someone she cared about again. Only this time it would be so much worse.

She wiped her eyes and watched a puff of smoke curl out from underneath the crack at the base of the door. They weren't safe yet. There was another door at the end of the hallway. Through the glass panel in the door, Katniss could see the wobble of a tree branch in the night.

She exhaled. In a few minutes, they'd be outside, safe from these choking fumes.

If they were fast enough, they could go around the front entrance and make sure Rue and Miss Trinket made it out okay.

"Come on," Katniss told Blight, who was folded over himself, wheezing. "We have to keep going."

He straightened up, but Katniss could see he was really overcome. His face was red, his eyes were wild and wer. She practically had to drag him toward the door. She was so focused on getting out that it took her too long to process the heavy, swishing noise that had falled over them, drowning out the alarms.

She looked up into the maelstorm of the shadows. A specturm of shades of grey and deepest black. She should only be able to see as far as the ceiling overhead, but the shadows seemed somehow to extend beyond its limits. Into a strange, and hidded sky. They were all tangled up in each other, and yet they were distinct.

Amid them was the lighter, greyish one she'd seen earlier. It was no longer shaped like a needle, but now looked almost like a flame of a match. It bobbed over them in the hallway. Had _she_ really fended off that amorphous darkness when it threatened to graze Rue's head?

Blight started banging on the walls, as if the hallway were closing in on them. Katniss knew they were nowhere near the door. She grabbed for his hand, but their sweaty palms slid off each other. She wrapped her fingers tight around his wrist. He was white as a ghost, crouched down near the floor, almost cowering. A terrified moan escaped his lips.

Because the smoke was now filling up the hallway?

Or because he could sense the shadows, too?

Impossible.

And yet his face was pinched and horrified. Much more so now that the shadows were overhead.

"Katniss?" his voice shook.

Another horde of shadows rose up directly in their path. A deep black blanket of dark spread out across the walls and made it impossible for Katniss to see the door. She looked at Blight-could he see it?

"Run!" she yelled.

Could he even run? His face was ashy and his eyelids drooped shut. He was on the verge of passing out. But then it suddenly seemed like he was carrying her.

Or _something_ was carrying both of them.

"What the hell?" Blight cried out.

Their feet skimmed the floor for just a moment. It felt like riding a wave in the ocean, a light crest that lifted her higher, filling her body with air. Katniss didn't know where she was headed-she couldn't even see the door, just a snarl of inky shadows all around. Hovering but not touching her. She should have been terrified, but she wasn't. Somehow she felt protected from the shadows, like something was shielding her-something fluid but impenetrable. Something uncannily familiar. Something strong, but also gentle. Something-

Almost too quickly, she and Blight were at the door. Her feet hit the floor again, and she shoved agaisnt the door's emergency exit bar.

Then she heaved. Choked. Gasped. Gagged.

Another alarm was clanging. But it sounded far away. The wind whipped at her neck. They were outside. Standing on a small ledge. A flight of stairs led down to the commons, and even though everything in her head felt cloudy and filled with smoke, Katniss thought she could hear voices somewhere nearby.

She turned back to try to figure out what had just happened. How had she and Blight made it through that thickest, blackest, impenetrable shadow? And _what_ was the thing that had saved them? Katniss felt its absence.

She almost wanted to go back and search for it.

But the hallway was dark, and her eyes were still watering, and she couldn't make out the twisting shadow shapes anymore. Maybe they were gone.

Then there was a jagged stroke of light, something that looked like a tree trunk with branches-no, like a torso with long, broad limbs. A pulsing, almost violet column of light hovering above them. It made Katniss think, absurdly, of Peeta. She was seeing things. She took a deep breath and tried to blink the smoky tears from her eyes. But the light was still there. She sensed more than heard it call to her, calming her, a lullaby in the middle of a war zone.

So she didn't see the shadow coming.

It body-slammed into her and Blight, breaking their grip on each other and tossing Katniss into the air. She landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs. An agonized grunt escaped her lips.

For one long moment, her head throbbed. She'd never known pain as deep and searing as this. She cried out into the night, into the clash of light and shadow overhead.

But then it all became too much and Katniss surrendered, closing her eyes.

_**A/N: duh, duh, DUH! Haha, lol, please R&R? Thanks! ^_^**_


	12. Rude Awakening

_**A/N: Hey guys, here's chapter eleven! ^_^**_

_**All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Eleven**

**Rude Awakening**

"Are you scared?" Peeta asked. His head was tilted sideways, his blond hair disheveled by a soft breeze. He was holding her, and while his grip was firm around her waist, it was as smooth and light as a silk sash. Her own fingers were laced behind his shirtless neck.

Was she scared? Of course not. She was with Peeta, finally. In his arms. The truer question pulling at the back of her mind was: _Should_ she be scared? She couldn't be sure. She didn't even know where she was.

She could smell the rain in the air, close by. But both she and Peeta were dry. She could feel a long white dress flowing down to her ankles. There was only a little light left in the day. Katniss felt a stabbing regret at wasting the sunset, as if there was anything she could do to stop it. Somehow she knew these final rays of light were as precious as the last drops of honey in a jar.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked. Her voice was the thiniest whisper, almost completely out by a low groan of thunder. A gust of win swirled around them, brushing Katniss' hair into her eyes. Peeta folded his arms more tightly around her, until she could breathe in his breath, could smell his skin on hers.

"Always," he whispered back. The sweet sound of his voice filled her up.

There was a small scratch of the left side of his forehead, but she forgot it as Peeta cupped her cheek and brought her face nearer. She tilted her head back and felt the whole of her body go slack with expectation.

Finally, finally, his lips came down on hers with an urgency that took her breath away. He kissed her as if she belonged to him, as naturally as if she were some long-lost part of him that he could at last reclaim.

Then the rain started to fall. It soaked their hair, ran down their faces and into their mouths. The rain was warm and intoxicating, like the kisses themselves.

Katniss reached around his back to pull him closer, and her hands slide over something velvety. She ran her hand over it, then another, searching for its limits, she then peered past Peeta's glowing face.

Something was unfurling behind them.

Wings. Lustrous and iridescent, beating slowly, effortlessly, shining in the rain. She'd seen them before, maybe, or something like them somewhere.

"Peeta," she said, gasping. The wings consumed her vision and her mind. They seemed to swirl into multiple colours, making her head hurt. She tried to look elsewhere, anywhere else, but on all sides, all she could see besides Peeta were the endless pinks and blues of the sunset sky. Until she looked down and took in one thing.

The ground.

Thousands of feet below them.

~xXx~

When she opened her eyes, it was too bright, her throat was too dry, and there was a splitting pain at the back of her head. The sky was gone and so was Peeta.

Another dream.

Only this one left her feeling almost sick with desire.

She was in a white-walled room. Lying on a hospital bed. To her left, a paper-thin curtain had been dragged halfway across the room, seperating her from something bustling on the other side. Katniss gingerly touched the tender spot at the base of her neck, and whimpered.

She tried to get her bearings. She didn't know where she was, but she had a distinct feeling that she wasn't at Capitol Cross any longer. Her billowy white dress was-she patted her sides-a baggy hospital gown. She could feel every part of the dream slipping away-everything but those wings. They'd been so real. The touch of them so velvety and fluid. Her stomach churned. She clenched and unclenched her fists, hyperaware of their emptiness.

Someone grasped and squeezed her right hand. Katniss turned her head quickly and winced. She'd assumed she was alone. Delly was perched on the edge of a faded blue rolling chair that seemed, annoyingly, to bring out the colour of her eyes.

Katniss wanted to pull away-or, at least, she _expected_ to want to pull away-but then Delly gave her the warmest smile, one that made Katniss feel somehow safe, and she realized she was glad she wasn't alone.

"How much of it was a dream?" she murmered.

Delly laughed. She had a pot of cuticle cream on the table next to her and she began rubbing the white, lemon-scented stuff into Katniss' nail beds. "That all depends," she said, massaging Katniss' fingers. "But never mind dreams. I know that whenever I feel my world turn upside down, nothing grounds me like a manicure."

Katniss glanced down. She'd never been much for nail polish herself, but Delly's words reminded her of her mother, who was always suggesting they go for manicures whenever Katniss had a bad day. As Delly's slow hands worked her fingers, Katniss wondered whether all these years, she'd been missing out.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Lullwater Hospital."

Her first trip off campus and she ended up in a hospital five minutes from her parents' house. The last time she'd been here was to get three stitches on her elbow when she'd fallen off her bike. Her father hadn't left her side. Now he was nowhere to be seen.

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

Delly looked at a white clock on the wall and said, "They found you passed out from smoke inhalation last night around eleven. It's standard operating procedure to call for EMT's when they find a reform kid unconcious, but don't worry, Alma said they're going to let you out of here pretty soon. As soon as your parents give the okay-"

"My parents are here?"

And filled with concern for their daughter, right down to the split ends of your mama's permed hair. They're in the hallway, drowning in paperwork. I told them I'd keep an eye on you."

Katniss groaned and pressed her face into the pillow, calling up the deep pain of her head again.

"If you don't want to see them . . ."

But Katniss wasn't groaning about her parents. She was dying to see her parents. She was library, the fire, and the new breed of shadows that grew more terrifying every time they found her. They'd always been dark and unsightly, they'd always made her nervous, but last night, it had almost seemed as if the shadows _wanted_ something from her. And then there was that other thing. The levitating force that had set her free.

"What's that look?" Delly asked, cocking her head and waving her hand in front of Katniss' face. "What are you thinking about?"

Katniss didn't know what to make of Delly's sudden kindness toward her. Nurse's assitant didn't exactly seem like the kind of gig Delly would volunteer for, and it wasn't like there were any guys are around whose attention she could monopolize. Delly didn't even seem to like Katniss. She wouldn't just show up here of her own accord, would she?

But even as nice as Delly was being, there was no way to explain what had happened last night. The grisly, unspeakable gathering in the hallway. The surreal sensation of being propelled forward through the blackness. The strange, compelling figure of light.

"Where's Blight?" Katniss asked, remembering the boy's fearful eyes. She'd lost her grip on him, gone flying, and then . . .

The paper curtain was suddenly slung back and there was Johanna, wearing in-line skates and a red-and-white candy striper uniform. Her short brown hair was twisted up in a serious of knots on top of her head. She rolled in, carrying a tray on which sat three coconut sheels topped with neon-coloured umbrella party straws.

"Now lemme get this straight," she said in a throaty, nasal voice. "You put the lime in the coconut and drink 'em both up-_whoa_ long faces. What am I interuppting?"

Johanna wheeled to a stop at the foot of Katniss' bed. She extended the coconut with a bobbing pink umbrella. Delly jumped up and seized the coconut first, giving the contents a sniff. "Johanna, she has been through a _trauma,_" she scolded. "And for you information, what you interuppted was the topic of Blight."

Johanna tossed her shoulders back. "Precisely why she needs something with a kick," she argued, holding the tray possessively while she and Delly engaged in a stare-down.

"Fine," Johanna said, looking away from Delly. "I'll give her _your_ boring old drink." She gave Katniss a coconut with a blue straw.

Katniss must have been in some kind of post-traumatic daze. Where would they have gotten any of this? Coconut shells? Drink umbrellas? It was like they'd conked out of reform school and woken up at Club Med.

"Where did you guys get this stuff?" she asked. "I mean, thank you, but-"

"We pool our resources when we need to," Johanna said. "Finnick helped."

The three of them sat slurping the frosty, sweet drinks for a moment, until Katniss couldn't take it anymore. "So back to Blight . . . ?"

"Blight," Delly said, clearing her throat. "Thing is . . . he just inhaled a lot more of that smoke than you did, honey-"

"He did not," Johanna spat. "He broke his neck."

Katniss gasped, and Delly hit Johanna with her drink umbrella.

"What?" Johanna said. "Katniss can handle it. If she's going to find out eventually, why sugarcoat it?"

"The evidence is still inconclusive," Delly said, stressing the words.

Johanna shrugged. "Katniss was there, she must have seen-"

"I didn't see what happened to him," Katniss said. "We were together and then somehow we were thrown apart. I had a bad feeling, but I didn't know," she whispered. "So he's . . ."

"Gone from the world," Delly said softly.

Katniss closed her eyes. A chill spread through her that nothing to do with the drink. She remembered Blight's frenzied banging on the walls, his sweaty hand squeezing hers when the shadows roared down on them, the awful moment when the two of them had been split apart and she'd been too overcome to go to him.

He'd seen the shadows. Katniss was certain of it now. And he'd died.

After Thresh died, not a week had gone by without a hate letter finding its way to Katniss. Her parents started trying to vet the mail before she could read the poisonous stuff, but too much still reached her. Some letters were handwritten, others were typed, one had even been cut from magazine letters, ransom-note style. _Murderer. Witch._ They'd called her enough cruel words to keep her locked inside the house all summer.

She thought she'd done so much to move on from that nightmare: leaving her past behind when she came to Capitol Cross, focusing on her classes, making friends . . . oh God. She sucked in her breath. "What about Rue?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Rue's fine," Johanna said. "She's all front-page-story, eyewitness-to-the-fire. She and Miss Trinket both got out, smelling like an East Georgia smoke pit, but no worse for the wear. "

Katniss let out her breath. At least there was one piece of good news. But under the paper-thin infirmary sheets, she was trembling. Soon, surely the same types of people who'd come to her after Thresh's death would come to her again. Not just the ones who wrote the angry letters. Dr. Aurelis. Her parole officer. The police.

Just like before, she'd be expected to have the whole story pieced together. To remember every single detail. But of course, just like before, she wouldn't be able to. One minute, he'd been at her side, just the two of them. The next-

"Katniss!" Rue barged into the room, holding a big brown helium balloon. It was shaped like a band-aid and said _Stick it Out_ in blue cursive letters. "What is this?" she asked, looking at the other three girls critically. "Some sort of slumber party?"

Johanna had unlaced her skates and climbed onto the tiny bed next to Katniss. She was double-fisting the coconut drinks and laying her head on Katniss' shoulder. Delly was painting clear nail polish on Katniss' coconut free hand.

"Yeah," Johanna cackled. "Join us Ruelabelle. We were just about to play Truth or Dare. We'll just let you go first."

Delly tried to cover up her laugh with a dainty fake sneeze.

Rue put her hands on her hips. Katniss felt bad for her, and was also a little scared. Rue looked pretty fierce. "One of our classmates _died_ last nigh," Rue carefully enunciated. "And Katniss could have been really hurt." She shook her head. "How can you two play around at a time like this?" She sniffed. "Is that alcohol?"

"Ohhhh," Johanna said, looking at Rue, her face serious. "You _liked_ him, didn't you?"

Rue picked up a pillow from the chair behind her and chucked it at Johanna. The thing was, Rue was right. It _was_ strange that Johanna and Delly were taking Blight's death . . . almost lightly. Like they saw this kind of thing happen all the time. Like it didn't affect them the way it affected Katniss. But they couldn't know what Katniss knew about Thresh's last moments. They couldn't know why she felt so sick right now She patted the foot of the bed for Rue and handed her what was left in her frosty coconut.

"We went out hte back exit, then-" Katniss couldn't even say the words. "What happened to you and Miss Trinket?"

Rue glanced doubtfully at Johanna and Delly, but neither made a move to be obnoxious. Rue gave in and settled on the edge of the bed.

"I just went up there to ask her about-" She glanced at the other two girls again, then gave Katniss a knowing look. "This question I had. She didn't know the answer but she wanted to show me another book."

Katniss had forgotten all about her and Rue's quest that night. It seemed so far away, and so beside the point after what had happened.

"We took two steps away from Miss Trinket's desk," Rue continued, "and there was this massive burst of light out of the corner of my eye. I mean, I've read about spontaneous combustion, but this was . . . "

All three of the other girls were leaning forward by then. Rue's story _was_ front-page news.

"Something must have started it," Katniss said, trying to picture Miss Trinket's desk in her mind. "But I didn't think there was anyone else in the library."

Rue shook her head. "There wasn't. Miss Trinket said a wire must have shorted in a lamp. All her documents went right up." She snapped her fingers.

"But she's okay?" Katniss asked, fingering the papery hem of her hospital gown.

"Distraught, but okay," Rue said. "The sprinklers came on eventually, but I guess she lost a whole lot of her things. When they told her what happened to Blight, it was almost like she was too numb to understand."

"Maybe we're all too numb to understand," Katniss said. This time Delly and Johanna nodded on either side of her. "Do-do Blight's parents know?" she asked, wondering how on earth she would explain to her own parents what had happened.

She imagined them filling out paperwork in the lobby. Would they even went to see her? Would they connect Blight's death with Thresh's . . . and both awful stories back to her?

"I overheard Alma on the phone with Blight's parents," Rue said. "I think they're filing a lawsuit. His body is being sent back to Florida later today."

That was it? Katniss swallowed.

"Capitol Cross is having a memorial service for him on Thursday," Delly said quietly. "Peeta and I are going to help organize it."

"Peeta?" Katniss repeated before she could control herself. She glanced at Delly, and even in her grief-stricken state, she couldn't help reverting to her intial image of the girl: a pink-lipped, blond seductress.

"He was the one who found the two of you last night," Delly said. "He carried you from the library to Alma's office."

Peeta had carried her? As in . . . his arms around her body? The dream rushed back and the sensation of flying-no, of _floating_-overwhelmed her. She felt too tethered down to her bed. She ached for that same sky, that rain, his mouth, his teeth, his tongue melding with hers again. Her face grew hot, first with desire, then with the agnonizing impossibilty of any of that ever happening while she was awake. Those glorious, blinding wings weren't the only fantastical things about her dream. The real-life Peeta would only carry her to the nurse's station. He would never want her, never take her in his arms, not like that.

"Uh, Katniss, are you okay?" Rue asked. She was fanning Katniss' flushed cheeks with her drink umbrella.

"Fine," Katniss said. It was impossibe to push those wings out of her mind. To forget the sensation of his face over hers. "Just still recovering, I guess."

Delly patted her hand. "When we heard about what happened, we sweet-talked Alma into letting us come visit," she said, rolling her eyes. "We didn't want you to wake up alone."

There was a knock at the door. Katniss waited to see her parents' nervous faces, but no one came in. Delly stood and looked at Johanna, who made no move to get up. "You guys stay here. I'll handle this."

Katniss was still overcome by what they'd told her about Peeta. Even though it didn't make any sense at all, she wanted it to be him outside that door.

"How is she?" a voice asked in a whisper. But Katniss heard it. It was him. Delly murmered something back.

"What is all this congregating?" Alma growled from outside the room. Katniss knew with a sinking heart that this meant visiting hours were over. "Whoever talked me into letting you hooligans tag along gets a detention. And no, Mellark, I will not accept flowers as bribes. All of you, get in the minivan."

Hearing the attendant's voice, Johanna and Rue cringed, then scrambled to stash the coconut shells under the bed. Rue stuffed the drink umbrellas inside her pencil case and Johanna spritzed the air with some serious vanilla musk perfume. She slipped Katniss a piece of spearmint gum.

Rue gagged on a floating cloud of perfume, then leaned quickly into Katniss and whispered, "As soon as you're back on your feet, we'll dins the book. I think it'd be good for us to stay busy, keep our minds off things."

Katniss squeezed Rue's hands in thanks and smiled at Johanna, who looked too busy lacing up her roller skates to have heard. That was when Alma barged through the door. "More congregating!" she cried. "Unbe_liev_able."

"We were just-" Rue started to say.

"Leaving," Alma finished for her. She had a bunch of dandelions in her hand. Strange. They were Katniss' favourite. And how can they look so fresh? Most dandelions around here are old weeds wilting away in people's front gardens.

Alma opened a cabinet under the sink and rooted around for a minute, then pulled out a small, dusty vase. She filled it with cloudy water from the tap, stuffed the dandelions roughly inside, and set them aside on the table next to Katniss. "These are from your friends," she said. "Who will now all make their departures."

The door was wide open, and Katniss could see Peeta leaning against the frame. His chin was lifted and his blue eyes were shadowed in concern. He met Katniss' gaze and gave her a small smile. When he brushed his hair away from his eyes, Katniss could see a small, dark red gash on his forehead.

Alma steered Rue, Johanna, and Delly out the door. But Katniss couldn't take her eyes off Peeta. He raised a hand in the air and mouthed what she thought was _I'm sorry_ just before Alma shoved them out.

"I hope they didn't wear you out," Alma said, lurking in the doorway with an unsympathetic frown.

"Oh no!" Katniss shook her head, realizing how much she'd come to rely on Rue's loyalty and Johanna's quirky way of lightening even the soberest mood. Delly, too, had been truly kind to her. And Peeta, though she'd barely seen him, had done more to restore her peace of mind that he could ever know. He'd come by to check on her. He'd been thinking of her.

"Good," Alma said. "But visiting hous aren't over yet."

Again, Katniss' heart picked up as she waited to see her parents. But there was just a brisk clicking on the linoleum floor, and soon Katniss saw the tiny frame of Miss Trinket. A colourful autumnal pashmina was draped over her thin shoulders, and her lips were painted deep red to match. Behind her walked a short, bald man in a suit, and two police officers, one chubby and one thin, both with receding harilines and crossed arms.

The chubby police officer was younger. He took a seat on the chair next to Katniss, then-noticing that no one else had moved to sit down-stood back up and re-crossed his arms.

The bald man stepped forward and offered Katniss his hand. "I'm Mr Schultz, Capitol Cross' attorney." Katniss stiffly shook his hand. "These officers would like to ask you a couple of questions. Nothing to be used in a court, only an effort to corroborate details from the accident-"

"And I insisted on being here during the questioning, Katniss," Miss Trinket added, coming forward to stroke Katniss' hair. "How are you dear?" she whispered. "In a state of anmesiac shock?"

"I'm okay-"

Katniss broke off as she caught sight of two more figures in the doorway. She almost burst into tears when she saw her mother's blonde head and her father's big tortoiseshell glasses.

"Mum," she whispered, too low for anyone else to hear. "Dad."

They rushed toward the bed, throwing their arms around her and squeezing her hands. She wanted to hug them so badly, but felt too weak to do much more than stay still and take in the familiar comfort of their touch. Their eyes looked just as scared as she felt.

"Honey, what happened?" her mum asked.

She couldn't say a word.

"I told them you were innocent," Miss Trinket said, turning to remind the officers. "Eerie similarities be damned."

Of course they had Thresh's accident on record, and of course the cops would find it . . . remarkable in light of Thresh's death. Katniss had enough practice with police officers to know that she was only to leave them frustrated and annoyed.

The thin cop had long sideburns that were going grey. Her open file in his hand seemed to require his full attention, because not once did he look up at her.

"Ms Everdeen," he said with a slow southern drawl. "Why were you and Mr. Hammond alone in the library at such a late hour when all the other students were at a party?"

Katniss glanced at her parents. Her mother was chewing off her lipstick. Her father's face was as white as the bedsheet.

"I wasn't with Blight," Katniss said, not understanding the line of questioning. "I was with Rue, my friend. And Miss Trinket was there. Blight was reading on his own and when the fire started, I lost Rue, and Blight was the only one I could find."

"The only one you could find . . . to do what with?"

"Hold on a minute." Mr. Schultz stepped forward to interuppt the cop. "This was an accident, may I remind you. You're not interrogating a suspect."

"No, I want to answer," Katniss said. There were so many people in this tiny room that she didn't know where to look. She eyed the cop. "What do you mean?"

"Are you an angry person, Ms. Everdeen?" He gripped the folder. "Would you call yourself a loner?"

"That's enough," her father interuppted.

"Yes, Katniss is a serious student," Miss Trinket added. "She had no ill will toward Blight Hammond. What happened was an accident, no more."

The officer glanced toward the open doorway, as if wishing Miss Trinket would relocate herself outside it. "Yes, ma'am. Well, with these reform school cases, giving no benefit of the doubt is not always the most responsible-"

"I'll tell you everything, I know," Katniss said, balling up her sheet in her fist. "I don't have anything to hide."

She took them through it as best she could, speaking slowly and clearly so she would raise no new questions for her parents, so the cops could take notes. She didn't let herself slide into emotion, which seemed like exactly what everyone was expecting. And-leaving out the appearance of the shadows-the story made a lot of sense.

They'd run for the back door. They'd found the exit at the end of a long corridor. The stairs dropped quickly, steeply off the ledge, and she and Blight had both been running with such force, they couldn't stop themselves from tumbling down the stairs. She lost track of him, hit her head hard enough to wake up here twelve hours later. That was all she remembered.

She left them very little to argue over. There was only her true memory of the night for her to grapple with-on her own.

When it was over, Mr. Schultz gave the police officers an are-you-statisfied tilt of his head, and Miss Trinket beamed at Katniss, as if together they'd succeeded at something impossible. Katniss' mother let out a long sigh.

"We'll mull this over at the station," the thin officer said, closing Katniss' file with such resignation, he seemed to want to be thanked for his services.

Then the four of them left the room and she was alone with her parents.

She gave them her very best take-me-home look. Her mum's lip trembled, but her dad only swallowed. "Alma's going to take you back to Capitol Cross this afternoon," he said. "Don't look so shocked, honey. The doctor said you're fine."

"More than fine," her mum added, but she sounded uncertain.

Her dad patted her arm. "We'll see you on Saturday. Just a few more days."

Saturday. She closed her eyes. Parents' day. She'd been looking forward at Capitol Cross, but now everything was tainted by Blight's death. Her parents seemed almost eager to leave her. They had a way of not really wanting to deal with realities of having a reform school daughter. They were so normal. She couldn't really blame them.

"Get some rest now, Katniss," her dad said, bending down to kiss her forehead. "You've had a long, hard night."

"But-"

She _was_ exhausted. She briefly closed her eyes and when she opened them, her parents were already waving from the doorway. She plucked a bright yellow flower from the vase and brought is slowly to her face. She breathing in the flowers earthy scent.

She tried to imagine the way they would have looked in Peeta's hands. She tried to imagine where he'd gotten them, and what had been on his mind.

It was a strange choice of flower. Dandelions are normally dank, dying weeds growing in grasslands only in Spring. It's September. They aren't in season. The blooms were as large as her cupped palms, and the smell reminded her of something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

_I'm sorry_, Peeta had said. Only Katniss couldn't figure out for what.

_**A/N: So Rue and Miss Sophia are okay, but Blight has sadly died. The mystery surrounding Peeta has deepened and Katniss is as confused as ever. What's gonna happen next?**_

_**Please R&R! :)**_


	13. Into Dust

_**A/N: You have no idea how sorry I'am that this took so long! I'm SO sorry! **_

_**Disclaimer: All rights to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

Chapter Twelve

Into Dust

In the hazy dusk over the cemetery, a vulture circled. Two days had passed since Blight's death, and Katniss hadn't been able to eat or sleep. She was standing in a sleeveless black dress in the basin of the graveyard, where the whole of Capitol Cross had gathered to pay its respects to Blight. As if one unenthusiastic hourlong ceremony was enough. Especially since the campus's only chapel had been turned into the natatorium, and the ceremony had to be held in the grim swampland of the cemetery.

Since the accident, the school had been on lockdown and the faculty had been the definition of tight-lipped. Katniss had spent the past two days avoiding the stares of the other students, who all eyed her with varying degrees of suspicion. The ones she didn't know very well seemed to look at her with a hint of fear. Others, like Finnick and Glimmer, ogled her in a different, much more shameless manner, as if there were something darkly fascinating about her survival. She endured the probing eyes as best she could during class, and was glad at night when Rue dropped by to bring her a steaming mug of ginger tea, or Johanna slipped a dirty Mad Libs under her door.

She was desperate for anything to take her mind off that uneasy, waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop feeling. Because she knew it was coming. In the form of a second visit either from the police, or from the shadows-or both.

That morning, a PA announcement had informed them that the evening's Social would be canceled out of respect for Blight's passing, and that classes would be dismissed an hour early so the students could have time to change and arrive at the cemetery at three o'clock. As if the whole school weren't already dressed for a funeral all the time.

Katniss had never seen so many people congregating in one place on campus. Alma was parked at the center of the group in a calf-length pleated grey skirt and thick, rubber-soled black shoes. A misty-eyed Miss Trinket and a handkerchief-wielding Mr Abernathy stood behind her in mourning clothes. Ms. Paylor and Coach Atala stood in a black-clad cluster with a group of other faculty and administrators Katniss had never seen before.

The students were seated in alphabetic rows, starting at the back. At the very back, Katniss could see Joel Bland, the kid who'd won the swimming race last week, blowing his nose into a dirty hankerchief. Katniss was in the nowhere land of E's, but she could see Peeta in the M's. He was dressed impeccably in a fitted black pinstriped blazer, but his head seemed to hang lower that everyone's around him. Even from the back, Peeta managed to look devastingly somber.

Katniss thought about the dandelions he's brought her. Alma hadn't let her take the vase with her when she left the infirmary, so Katniss had carried the flowers up to her room and gotten pretty inventive, cutting the top of a plastic water bottle with a pair of manicure scissors.

The blooms were fragrant and soothing, but the message they offered was unclear. Usually when a guy brought you flowers, you didn't have to second-guess his feelings. But with Peeta, those kinds of assumptions were always a bad idea. It was so much safer to assume he'd brought them to her because that was what you did when someone went through a trauma.

But still: He'd brought her flowers! If she leaned forward now in her folding chair, and looked up at the dorm, through the metal bars on the third window from the left, she could almost make them out.

"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread," a pay-by-the-hour minister warbled from the front of the crowd. "Till thou return unto the ground. For out of it wast thou taken, for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

He was a thin man about seventy, lost in a big black jacket. His beat-up athletic shoes were fraying at the laces; his face was lumpy and sunburned. He spoke into a microphone attatched to an old plastic boom box that looked like it was from the eighties. The sound that came out was staticky and distorted and hardly carried across the crowd.

Everything about this service was inadequate and completely wrong.

No one was paying Blight any respect by being here. The whole memorial seemed like an attempt to teach the students how unfair life could be. That Blight's body wasn't even present said so much about the school's relationship-or lack thereof-with the departed boy. None of them had known him; non of them ever would. There was something false about standing here today in this crowd, something made worse by the few people who were crying. It made Katniss feel like Blight was even more of a stranger to her than he actually had been.

Let Blight rest in peace. Let the rest of them just move on.

A white horned owl crooned in the high branch of the oak tree over their heads. Katniss knew there was a nest somewhere nearby with a clan of new baby owls. She'd been hearing the mother's fearful chant each night this week, followed by the frantic beating of the father's wings on the descent from his nightly hunt.

And then it was over. Katniss stood up from her chair, feeling weak with the unfairness of it all. Blight had been as innocent as she was guilty, though of what she didn't know.

As she followed the other students in single file toward the so-called reception, an arm looped around her waist and pulled her back.

Peeta?

But no, it was Gale.

His grey eyes searched hers and seemed to pick up her disappointment, which only made her feel worse. She bit her lip to keep from dissolving into a sob. Seeing Gale shouldn't make her cry-she was just so emotionally drained, teetering on the brink of collapse. She bit so hard she tasted blood, then wiped her mouth on her hand.

"Hey," Gale said, smoothing the back of her hair. She winced. She still had a bump back there from where she'd hit her head on the steps. "Do you want to go somewhere to talk?"

They'd been walking with the others across the grass toward the reception under the shade of the oak trees. A cluster of chairs had been set up practically one on top of the other. A nearby folding card table was strewn with stacks of stale-looking cookies, pulled from generic boxes but still sitting in their inner plastic shells. A cheap plastic punch bowl had been filled with syrupy red liquid and attracted several flies, the way a corpse might do. It was such a pathetic reception, few of the other students even bothered with it. Katniss spotted Rue in a black skirt suit, shaking hands with the minister. Peeta was looking away from them all, whispering something to Delly.

When Katniss turned back to Gale, his finger dragged lightly across her collarbone, the lingered in the hollow of her neck. She inhaled and felt goose bumps rise on her skin.

"If you don't like the necklace," he said, leaning into her, "I can get you something else."

His lips were so close to brushing her neck that Katniss pressed a hand to his shoulder and stepped back.

"I do like it," she said, thinking of the box lying on her desk. It had ended up right next to Peeta's flowers, and she'd spent half the night before looking back and forth between them, weighing the gifts and the intentions behind them. Gale was so much clearer, easier to figure out. Like he was algebra and Peeta was calculus. And she had always loved calculus, the way it sometimes took an hour to figure out a single proof.

"I think the necklace is great," she told Gale. "I just haven't had a chance to wear it yet."

"I'm sorry," he said, pursing his lips. "I shouldn't press you."

His dark hair was slicked back and showed most of his face that usual. It made him look older, more mature. And the way he looked at her was so intense, his big grey eyes probing into her, like he approved of everything she held inside.

"Miss Trinket kept saying to give you space these last couple of days. I know she's right, you've been through so much. But you should know how much I thought about you. I wanted to see you."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and Katniss felt tears welling up. She _had_ been through so much. And she felt terrible that here she was, about to cry, not over Blight-whose death did matter, and should have mattered more-but for selfish reasons. Because the past two days brought back too much past pain about Thresh and her life before Capitol Cross, things she thought she'd dealt with and could never explain, not to anyone. More shadows to push away.

It was like Gale sensed this, or at least part of this, because he folded her into his arms, pressed her head against his chest, and rocked her side to side.

"It's okay," he said. "It's going to be okay."

And maybe she didn't have to explain everything to him. It was like the more deranged she felt inside, the more available Gale became. What if it was enough just to stand here in the arms of someone who cared about her, to let his simple affection steady her for a little while?

It felt so _good_ just to be held.

Katniss didn't know how to pull away from Gale. He had always been so nice. And she did like him, and yet, for reasons that made her feel guilty, he was kind of beginning to annoy her. He was so perfect, and helpful, and exactly what she should have needed right now. It was just . . . he wasn't Peeta.

An angel food cupcake appeared over her shoulder. Katniss recognized the manicured hand holding it. "There's punch over there that needs drinking," Delly said, handing Gale a cupcake, too. He glared at its frosted top. "You okay?" Delly asked Katniss.

Katniss nodded. For the first time, Delly had popped up exactly when Katniss wanted saving. They smiled at each other and Katniss raised her cupcake in thanks. She took a small, sweet bite.

"Punch sounds great," Gale said through gritted teeth. "Why don't you go get us a couple of glasses, Delly?"

Delly rolled her eyes at Katniss. "Do a man on favour and he'll start treating you like a slave."

Katniss laughed. Gale was a little out of line, but it was obvious to Katniss what he was trying to do.

"I'll go get the drinks," Katniss said, ready for a breath of air. She headed for the card table and the punch bowl. She was skimming a fly from the surface of the punch when someone whispered in her ear.

"You want to get out of here?"

Katniss turned around, ready to invent some excuse for Gale that no, she couldn't duck out-not now, and not with him. But it wasn't Gale who reached out and toched the base of her wrist with his thumb.

It was Peeta.

She melted a little. Her Wednesday phone slot was in ten minutes and she desperately wanted to hear Madge's voice, or her parents' voices. To talk about something going on outside these wrought gates, other than the bleakness of her last two days.

But get out of here? With Peeta? She found herself nodding.

Gale was going to hate her if he saw her leave, and he _would_ see. He would be watching her. She could almost feel his grey eyes on the back of her head. But of course she had to go. She slipped her hand inside Peeta's. "Please."

All the other times they'd touched, either it had been an accident, or one of them had jerked away-usually Peeta-before the bolt of warmth Katniss always felt could evolve into a rising crescendo of heat. Not this time. Katniss looked down at Peeta's hand, holding fast to hers, and her whole body wanted more. More of the heat, more of the tingling, more of Peeta. It was almost-not quite-as good as she'd felt in her dream. She could hardly feel her feet moving below her, just the flow of his touch taking over.

It was as if she only blinked, and they had ascended to the gates of the cemetery. Below them, far away, the rest of the memorial service wobbled out of focus as the two of them left it all behind.

Peeta stopped suddenly and, without warning, dropped her hand. She shivered, cold again.

"You and Gale," he said, letting the words hand in the air like a question. "You spend a lot of time together?"

"Sounds like you're not very fond of that idea," she said, feeling instantly stupid for playing coy. She'd only wanted to tease him for sounding a little jealous, but his face and his tone were so serious.

"He's not-" Peeta started to say. He watched a red-tailed hawk land in an oak tree over their heads. "He's not good enough for you."

Katniss had heard people say that line a thousand times before. It was what everyone always said._ Not good enough._ But when the words passed Peeta's lips, they sounded important, even somehow true and relevant, not vague and dismissive the way the phrase had always sounded to her in the past.

"Well, then," she said in a quiet voice, "who is?"

Peeta put his hands on his hips. He laughed to himself for a long time. "I don't know," he said finally. "That's a terrific question."

Not exactly the answer Katniss was looking for. "It's not like it's _that_ hard," she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets because she wanted to reach out to him. "To be good enough for _me._"

Peeta's eyes looked like they were falling, all the violet that had been in them a moment before turned a deep, dark blue. "Yes," he said. "Yes, it is."

He rubbed his forehead, and when he did, his hair flipped back for just a second. Long enough. Katniss saw the scab on his forehead. It was healing, but Katniss could tell that it was new.

"What happened to your forehead?" she asked, reaching for him.

"I don't know," he snapped, pushing her hand away, hard enough that she stumbled back. "I don't know where it came from."

He seemed more unsettled by it than Katniss was, which surprised her. It was just a small scrape.

Footsteps on the gravel behind them. Both of them spun around.

"I told you, I haven't seen her," Glimmer was saying, shrugging off Gale's hand as they ascended the graveyard's hill.

"Let's go," Peeta said, sensing everything she felt-she was almost certain that he could-even before she shot him a nervous look.

She knew where the were going as soon as she began to follow him. Behind the church-gymnasium and into the woods. Just like she'd expected his jump rope posture before she ever saw him working out. Just like she'd known that cut before she saw it.

They walked at just the same pace, with steps just the same length. Their feet hit the grass at the same time, every time, until they reached the forest.

"If you come to a place more than once with the same person," Peeta said, almost to himself, "I guess it isn't yours alone anymore."

Katniss smiled, honored as she realized what Peeta was saying: that he'd never been to the lake before with anyone else. Only her.

As they trekked through the woods, she felt the coolness of the shade beneath the tress on her bare shoulders. It smelled the same as ever, as most coastal Georgian forests did: an oaky, mulch scent that Katniss used to associate with the shadows, but that she now connected to Peeta. She couldn't feel safe anywhere after what just happened to Blight, but next to Peeta, Katniss felt like she was breathing easy for the first time in days.

She had to believe he was bringing her back here because of the way he'd skipped out on her so suddenly the last time. Like they needed a second try to get it right. What had started out feeling like their first kind of almost-date had turned into Katniss feeling pitifully stood up. Peeta must have known that and felt bad about his stormy exit.

They reached the magnolia tree that marked the lookout point on the lake. The sun left a golden trail on the water as it edged over the forest to the west. Everything looked so different in the evening. The whole world seemed to glow.

Peeta leaned up against the tree and watched her watch the water. She moved to stand beside him under the waxy leaves and the flowers, which should have been dead and gone by this time of year, but looked as prue and fresh as spring blooms. Katniss breathed in the musky scent, and felt closer to Peeta than she had any reason to-and loved that the feeling seemed to come from out of nowhere.

"We're not exactly dressed for a swim this time," he said, pointing at Katniss' black dress.

She fingered the delicate eyelet hem at her knees, imaging her mum's shock is she ruined a good dress because she and a boy wanted to dive into a lake. "Maybe we could just stick our feet in?"

Peeta motioned toward the steep red rock path that led down to the water. They climbed over thick, tawny reeds and lake grass and used the twisted stumps of live oak trees to keep their balance. Here, the shore of the lake turned to pebbles. The water looked so still, she felt she almost could have walked on it.

Katniss kicked off her black ballet flats and skimmed the lily-padded surface with her toes. The water was cooler than it had been the other day. Peeta picked a strand of lake grass and started braiding its thick stem.

He looked at her. "You ever think about getting out of here-"

"All the time," she said with a groan, assuming that he meant that he did, too. Of course, she wanted to get as far away from Capitol Cross as possible. Anyone would. But she tried at least to keep her mind from whirling out of control, toward fantasies of her and Peeta plotting an escape.

"No," Peeta said, "I mean, have you really considered going somewhere else? Asking your parents for a transfer? It's just . . . Capitol Cross doesn't see like the best fit for you."

Katniss took a seat on the rock oppisote Peeta and hugged her knees If he was suggesting that she was a reject among a student body full of rejects, she couldn't help feeling a little insulted. She cleared her throat. "I can't afford the luxury of seriously considering someplace else. Capitol Cross is"-she paused-"pretty much a last-ditch effort for me."

"Come on," Peeta said.

"You wouldn't know-"

"I would," he sighed. "There's always another stop, Katniss."

"That's very prophetic Peeta," she said. She could feel her voice rising. "But if you're so interested in getting rid of me, what are we doing? No one asked you to drag me out here with you."

"No," he said. "You're right. I meant that you're not like people here. There's got to be a better place for you."

Katniss' heart was beating quickly, which it usually did around Peeta. But this was different. This whole scene was making her sweat.

"When I came here," she said, "I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't tell anyone about my past, or what I'd done to land myself at this place."

Peeta dropped his head into his hands. "What I'm talking about has nothing to do with what happened with that guy-"

"You know about him?" Katniss' face crumpled. No. How could Peeta know? "Whatever Glimmer told you . . ."

But she knew it was too late. Peeta had been the one to find her with Blight. If Glimmer had told him anything about how Katniss had also been implicated in _another_ mysterious fiery death, she couldn't begin to imagine explaining it.

"Listen," he said, gripping her hands. "What I'm saying, it has nothing to do with that part of your past."

She found that hard to believe. "Then does it have to do with Blight?"

He shook his head. "It has to do with this place. It has to do with things . . ."

Peeta's touch jostled something in her mind. She started thinking about the wild shadows she'd seen that night. The way they'd changed so much since she'd arrived at this school-from sneaky, unsettling threat to now almost-ubiquitous, full blown terrors.

She was crazy-that must be what Peeta sensed about her. Maybe he thought she was pretty, but he knew deep down she was seriously disturbed. That was why he wanted her to leave, so he wouldn't be tempted to get involved with someone like her. If that was what Peeta thought, he didn't know the half of it.

"Maybe it has to do with the weird black shadows I saw the night Blight died?" she said, hoping to shock him. But as soon as she'd said the words, she knew her intent was not to freak Peeta out even more . . . it was to finally tell someone. It wasn't like she had much more to lose.

"What did you say?" he asked slowly.

"Oh, you know," she said, shrugging now, trying to downplay what she'd just said. "Once a day or so, I get these _visits_ from these dark things I call the shadows."

"Don't be cute," Peeta said curtly. And enough though his tone stung, she knew he was right. She hated how falsely nonchalant she sounded, when she really was all wound up. But should she tell him? Could she? He was nodding for her to go on. His eyes seemed to reach out and pull the words from inside her.

"It's gone on for the last twelve years," she admitted finally, with a deep shudder. "It used to just be at night, when I was near water or trees, but now . . ." Her hands were shaking. "It's practically nonstop."

"What do they do?"

She would have thought he was just humouring her, or trying to get her to go on so he could crack a joke at her expense, except his voice had gone hoarse and his face was drained of colour.

"Usually, they start out by hovering right about here." She reached around to the back of Peeta's neck and tickled him to demonstrate. For once, she wasn't just trying to get phyiscally close to him-this really was the only way she knew how to explain. Especially since the shadows had begun to infringe on her body in such a palpable, physical way.

Peeta didn't flinch, so she continued. "The sometimes they get really bold," she said, moving her knees and placing her hands on his chest. "And they shove right up against me." Now she was right in his face. Her lip quivered and she couldn't believe she was actually opening up to anyone-let alone Peeta-about the horrible things she saw. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she said, "Recently, they don't seem satisfied until they've"-she swallowed-"taken someone's life and knocked me flat on my back."

She gave his shoulders the tiniest push, not intending to affect him at all, but the lightest touch of her fingertips was enough to knock Peeta over.

His fall took her so much by surprise, she accidently lost her balance and landed in a tangled heap on top of him. Peeta was flat on his back, looking at her with wide eyes. She should not have told him that. Here she was, on top of him, and she'd just divulged her deepest secret, the thing that _really_ defined her as a lunatic.

How could she still want to kiss him so badly at a time like this?

Her heart was pounding impossibly fast. Then she realized: she was feeling both of their hearts, racing each other. A kind of desperate conversation, one they couldn't have with words.

"You really see them?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered, wanting to pick herself up and take it all back. And yet she unable to move off Peeta's chest. She tried to reach his thoughts-what any normal person would think about an admission like hers. "Let me guess," she said glumly. "Now you're certain I need a transfer. To a psychiatric ward."

He pushed himself out from under her, leaving her lying practically face-first on the rock. Her eyes moved up his feet, to his legs, to his torso, to his face. He was staring up at the forest.

"That's never happened before," he said.

Katniss got to her feet. It was humilating, lying there alone. Plus it was like he hadn't even heard what she said.

"What's never happened? Before what?"

He turned to her and cupped her cheeks in his hands. She held her breath. He was so close. His lips were so close to hers. Katniss gave her thigh a punch to make sure this time she wasn't dreaming. She was wide awake.

Then he almost forcibly pulled himself away. He stoob before her, breathin quickly, his arms stiff at his sides.

"Tell me again what you saw."

Katniss turned away to face the lake. The clear blue water lapped softly at the bank, and she considered diving in. That was what Peeta had done last time things had gotten too intense for him. Why couldn't she do it, too?

"It may surprise you to know this," she said. "But it's no thrill for me to sit her and talk about how thoroughly insane I'am." _Especially to you._

Peeta didn't answer, but she could feel his eyes on her. When she finally got the courage to glance at him, he was giving her a strange, disturbing, _mournful_ look-one in which his eyes turned down that the corners and their particular blue was the saddest thing Katniss had ever seen. She felt as if she'd let him down somehow. But this was _her_ awful confession. Why should Peeta be the one to look so shattered?

He stepped toward her and leaned down until his eyes were gazing directly into hers. Katniss almost couldn't take it. But she couldn't make herself budge, either. Whatever happened to break this trance would have to be up to Peeta-who was moving closer still, tilting his head toward hers and closing his eyes. His lips parted. Katniss' breath caught in her throat.

She closed her eyes, too. She tilted her head toward his, too. She parted her lips, too.

And waited.

The kiss she had been dying for didn't come. She opened her eyes because nothing had happened, except for the rustling sound of a tree branch. Peeta was gone. She sighed, crestfallen but not surpised.

What was strange was that she could almost _see_ the path he'd taken back through the forest. As if she were some kind of hunter who could pinpoint the rotation of a leaf and let it lead her back to Peeta. Except she was nothing of the sort, and the kind of trail that Peeta had left in his wake was somehow bigger, clearer, and at the same time, even more elusive. It was as if a violet glow illuminated his path back through the forest.

Like the violet glow she'd seen during the library fire. She was seeing things. She steadied herself on the rock and looked away for a moment, rubbing her eyes. But whens he looked back, it was just the same: In just one plane of her vision-as if she were looking through bifocals with a wild prescription-the live oaks, and the mulch beneath them, and even the songs of the birds in the branches-all of it seemed to wobble out of focus. And if didn't just wobble, bathed in that faintest purple light, but seemed to emit a barely audible low-pitched hum.

She spun back around, terrified to face it, terrified of what it meant. Something was happening to her, and she couldn't tell no one about it. She tried to focus on the lake, but even it was growing darker and difficult to see.

She was alone. Peeta had left her. And in his place, this path she didn't know how-or want-to navigate. When the sun sank behind the mountains and the lake became a charcoal grey, Katniss fared another glance back at the forest. She sucked in her breath, not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. It was a forest like any other, no quivering light or violet hum. No sign of Peeta's ever been there at all.

_**A/N: Please R&R! :)**_


	14. Touched at the Roots

_**A/N: A massive thank you to all my reviewers! I love you all! You're awesome! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

_**Sorry for typos and/or mistakes :-)**_

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Touched at the Roots**

Katniss could hear her converse sneakers beating hard against the pavement. She could feel the humid wind tugging on her black T-shirt. She could practically taste the hot tar from a freshly paved portion of the parking lot. But when she flung her arms around the two huddled creatures near the entrance to Capitol Cross on Saturday morning, all of that was forgotten.

She had never been so glad to hug her parents in her life.

For days, she'd been regretting how cold and distant things had been at the hosptial, and she wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

They both stumbled as she plowed into them. Her mother started giggling and her dad thwacked her back in his tough-guy way with his palm. He had his enormous camera strapped around his neck. They straightened and held their daughter at arm's length. They seemed to want a good look at her face, but as soon as they got it, their own faces fell. Katniss was crying.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" her father asked, resting his hand on her head.

Her mom fished through her giant blue pocketbook for her stash of tissues. Eyes wide, she dangled one in front of Katniss' nose and asked, "We're here now. Everything's fine, isn't it?"

No, everything was not fine.

"Why didn't you take me home the other day?" Katniss asked, feeling angry and hurt all over again. "Why did you let them bring me back here?"

Her father blanched. "Every time we spoke to the headmaster, he said you were doing great, back in classes, like the trouper we raised. A sort throat from smoke and a little bump on the head. We thought that was all." He licked his lips.

"Was there more?" her mom asked.

One look between her parents told that they'd had this fight already. Mom would have begged to visit again sooner. Katniss' tough-love dad would have put his foot down.

There was no way to explain to them what had happened that night or what she'd been going through since then. She _had_ gone straight back to classes, though not by her own choice. And physically, she _was_ fine. It was just that in every other way-emotionally, psychologically, romantically-she couldn't have felt more broken.

"We're just trying to follow the rules," Katniss' father explained, moving his big hand to squeeze her neck. The weight of it shifted her whole posture and made it umcomfortable to stand still, but it had been so long since she'd been this close to people she loved, she didn't dare move away. "Because we only want what's best for you," her dad added. "We have to take it on faither that these people"-he gestured at the formidable buildings around campus, as if they represented Alma and Headmaster Snow and the rest of them-"that they know what they're talking about."

"They don't," Katniss said, glancing at the shoddy buildings and the empty commons. So far, nothing at this school made any sense to her.

Case in point, what they called Parents' Day. They'd made such a big deal about how lucky the students were to get the privilege of seeing their own flesh and blood. And yet it was ten minutes until lunchtime and Katniss' parents' car was the only one in the parking lot.

"This place is an absolute joke," she said, sounding cynical enough that her parents shared a troubled look.

"Kat, honey," her mom said, stroking her hair. Katniss could tell she wasn't used to its short length. Her fingers had a maternal instinct to follow the ghost of Katniss' forgotten hair all the way down her back. Your father rbought all your favourite foods.

Sheepishly, her father held up a colourful patchwork quilt and a large briefcase stule contraption made of wicker that Katniss had never seen bfore. Usually when they picnicked, it was a much more casual affair, with paper grocery bags and an old ripped sheet thrown down on the grass by the canoe trail outside their house.

"Pickled orka?" Katniss asked in a voice that sounded very much like little-kid Kat. No one could say her parents weren't trying.

Her dad nodded. "And sweet tea, and biscuits with white gravy. Cheddar grits with extra jalapenos, just the way you like 'em. Oh," he said, "and one more thing."

Katniss' mom reached into her purse for a fat, sealed red envelope and held it out to Katniss. For the briefest moment, a pain gnawed at Katniss' stomach when she thought back to the mail she was accustomed to receiving. _Psycho Killer. Death Girl._

But when Katniss looked at the handwriting on the envelope, her face broke into an enormous grin.

Madge. She tore into the envelop and pulled out a card with a black-and-white photograph on the front of two old ladies getting their hair done. Inside, every square inch of the car was filled with Madge's large, bubbly handwriting. And there were several pieces of scrawled-on-loose-leaf paper because she'd run out of room on the card.

_Dear Katniss,_

_Since out phone time is now ridiculously insufficient (Can you __please__ petition for some more? It's downright unjust), I'm going to get all old-fashioned with you and take up epic letter wrtiing. Enclosed you will find every single miniscule thing that happened to me over the past two weeks. Where you like it or not . . ._

Katniss clutched the envelope to her chest, still grinning, eager to devour the letter as soon as her parents headed home. Madge hadn't given up on her. And her parents were sitting right beside her. It had been way too long since Katniss had felt this loved. She reached out and squeezed her father's hand.

A blaring whistle made both her parents jump. "It's just the dinner bell," she explained; they seem relieved. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

As they walked from the hot, hazy parking lot toward the commons where the opening events of Parents' Day were being held. Katniss started to see the campus through her parents' eyes. She noticed anew the sagging roof of the main office, and the sickly, overripe odor of the rotting peach grove next to the gym. They way the wrought iron of the cemetery gates was overcome with orangey rust. She realized that in only a couple of weeks, she'd grown accumstomed to Capitol Cross's many eyesores.

Her parents looked mostly horrified. Her father gestured at a dying grapevine winding its decrepit way around the splintering fence at the entrance to the commons.

"Those are chardonnay grapes," he said, wincing because when a plant felt pain, so did he.

Her mother was using two hands to grip her pocketbook to her chest, with both elbows sticking out-the stance she took when she found herself in a neighborhood where she thought she might be mugged. And they hadn't even seen the reds yet. Her parents, who were admantly against little things like Katniss getting a webcam, would hate the idea of constant surveillance at her school.

Katniss wanted to protect them from all the atrocities of Capitol Cross, because she was figuring out how to manage-and sometimes even beat-the system here. Just the other day, Johanna had taken her through an obstacle course-like sprint across the campus to point out all the 'dead reds' whose batteries had died or been slyly 'replaced,' effectively creating the blind spots of the school. Her parents didn't need to know about all that; they just needed to have a good day with her.

Rue was swinging her legs from the bleachers, where she and Katniss had promised to meet at noon. She was holding a potted mum.

"Rue, these are my parents, Harry and Doreen Everdeen," Katniss said, gesturing. "Mom and Dad, this is-"

"Rueabelle Van Syckle-Lockwood," Rue said formally, extending the mum with both hands. "Thank you for letting me join you for lunch."

Ever the polite, Katniss' parents cooed and smiled, not asking any questions about Rue's own family's whereabouts, which Katniss hadn't had the time to explain.

It was another warm, clear day. The acid-green willow trees in front of the library swayed gently in the breeze, and Katniss steered her parents to a position where the willows obscured most of the soot stains and the windows broken by the fire. As they spread out the quilt on a dry patch of grass, Katniss pulled Rue aside.

"How are you?" Katniss asked, knowing that if she'd been the one who had to sit through a whole day honoring everyone's parents but hers, she would have needed a major pick-me-up.

To her surprise, Rue's head bobbed happily. "This is already so much better than last year!" she said. "And its all because of you. I wouldn't have anyone today if hadn't of came along."

The compliment ook Katniss by surprise and made her look around the quad to see how everyone else was handling the event. Despite the still half-empty parking lot, Parents' Day seemed to be slowly filling up.

Glimmer sat on a blanket nearby, between a pug-faced man and woman, gnawing hungrily on a turkey leg. Johanna was crouched on a bleacher, whispering to an older punk girl with hynotizing hot pink hair. Most likely her big sister. The two of them caught Katniss' eye and Johanna grinned and waved, then turned to the other girl to whisper something.

Finnick had a huge party of people setting up a picnic lunch on a large bedspread. They were laughing and joking, and a few younger kids were throwing food at each other. They seemed to be having a great time until a corn-on-the-cob grenade went flying and almost blind sided Delly, who was walking across the commons. She scowled at Finnick as she guided a man who looked old enough to be her grandather, patting his elbow as they walked toward a row of lawn chairs set up around the open field.

Peeta and Gale were noticeably missing-and Katniss couldn't picture what either of their families would look like. As angry and embarrassed as she'd been after Peeta bailed on her for the second time at the lake, she was still dying to catch a glimpse of anyone related to him. But then, thinking back to Peeta's thin file in the archive room, Katniss wondered whether he even kept in touch with anyone from his family.

Katniss' mother doled the chedder grits onto four plates and her father topped the mounds with freshly chopped jalapenos. After one bite, Katniss' mouth was on fire, just the way she liked it. Rue seemed unfamiliar with the typical Georgia far Katniss had grown up with. She looked particularly terrified by the pickled okra, but as soon as she took a bite, she gave Katniss a surprised look of approval.

Katniss' mom and dad had brought with them every single one of Katniss' favourite foods, even the pecan pralines from the family drugstore down the block. Her parents chomped happily on either side of her, seeming glad to fill their mouths with something other than talk of death.

Katniss should have been enjoying her time with them, and washing it all down with her beloved Georgia sweet tea, but she felt like an imposter daughter for pretending this elysian lunch was normal for Capitol Cross. The whole day was such a sham.

At the sound of a short, feeble round of applause, Katniss looked over at the bleachers, where Alma stood next to Headmaster Snow, a man whom Katniss had never seen in the flesh before. She recognized him from the unusally dim portrait she'd seen in the main lobby of the school, but now she saw that the artist had been generous. Rue had already told her that the headmaster only showed up on campus one day of the year-Parents' Day-with no exceptions. Otherwise, he was a recluse who didn't leave his Tybee Island mansion, not even when a studen at his school has passed away. The man's jowls were swallowing his chin and his snake eyes stared into the crowd, not seeming to focus on anything.

At his side Alma stood, legs akimbo in white stockings. She had a lipless smile plastered acrossher face, and the headmaster was blotting his big forehead with a napkin. Both had their game faces on today, but it seemed to take a lot out of them.

"Welcome to Capitol Cross' one-hundred-and-fifty-ninth annual Parents' Day," Headmaster Snow said into a microphone.

"Is he kidding?" Katniss whispered to Rue. It was hard to imagine Parents' Day during the antebellum period.

Rue rolled her eyes. "Surely a typo. I've told them to get him new reading glasses."

"We have a long and fun-filled day of family time scheduled for you, beginning with this leisurely picnic lunch-"

"Usually we only get nineteen minutes," Rue interuppted in an aside to Katniss' parents, who stiffened.

Katniss smiled over Rue's head and mouth, "She's kidding."

"Next time you'll have your choice of activities. Our very own biologist, Ms. Yolanda Paylor, will deliver a fascinating lecture in the library on the local Savannah flora found on campus. Coach Atala will supervise a series of family-friendly races out here on the lawn. And Mr. Abernathy will offer a historical guided tour of our prized heroes' cemetery. It's going to be a very busy day. And yes," Headmaster Snow said with a cheesy, toothy grin, "you will be tested on this."

It was just the right kind of bland and hackneyed joke to earn some canned laughter out of the bunch of visiting family members. Katniss rolled her eyes at Rue. This depressing attempt at good-natured chuckling made it all too clear that everyone was here in order to feel better about leaving their children in the hands of the Capitol Cross faculty. The Everdeens laughed, too, but kept looking at Katniss for more cues on how to handle themselves.

After lunch, the other families around the commons packed up their picnics and retreated to various corners. Katniss got the feeling that very few people were actucally participating in the school-sanctioned events. No one had followed Ms. Paylor up the library, and so far only Delly and her grandfather had climbed into a potato sack at the other end of the field.

Katniss didn't know where Glimmer or Johanna or Finnick had sneaked off to with their familes, and she still hadn't seen Peeta. She did know that her own parents would be disappointed if they saw nothing of the campus and didn't participate in any planned events. Since Mr. Abernathy's guided tour seemed like the least of the evils, Katniss suggested they pack up their leftovers and join him by the cemetery gates.

As they were on their way over, Johanna swung herself off the top bleacher like a gymnast dismounting a parallel bar. She stuck the landing right in front of Katniss' parents.

"Helloooo," she crooned, doing her best crazy-girl impression.

"Mom and Dad," Katniss said, squeezing their shoulders, "this is my good friend Johanna."

"And this"-Johanna poinsted at the tall, hot-pink headed girl who was slowly picking her way down the bleacher stairs, "is my sister, Cashmere."

Cashmere ignored Katniss' extended hand and swept her into her open arms for an extended, intimate hug. Katniss could feel her bones crunching together. The intense hug lasted long enough for Katniss to wonder what was up with it, but just as she was starting to feel uncomfortable, Cashmere let her go.

"It's good to meet you," she said, taking Katniss' hand.

"Likewise," Katniss said, giving Johanna a sideways glance.

"Are you two going on Mr. Abernathy's tour?" Katniss asked. Johanna, who was also looking at Cashmere as if she were crazy.

Cashmere opened her mouth, but Johanna quickly cut her off. "Hell no," she said. "These activites are for absolute lam-o's." She glanced at Katniss' parents. "No offense."

Cashmere shrugged. "Maybe we'll have a chance to catch up later!" she called to Katniss before Johanna tugged her away.

"They seemed nice," Katniss' mother said in the probing voice she used when she wanted Katniss to explain something.

"Um, why was that girl so into you?" Rue asked.

Katniss looked at Rue, then at her parents. Did she really have to defend, in front of them, the face that someone might like her?

The cemetery gates were unoccupied as they arrived at the meet up point. Mr. Abernathy seemed less bothered, vaguely greeting them before going back to his intense staring a strange point in the distance. He was obviously either drunk or hung over.

As they walked through the cemetery, Mr. Abernathy drunkly rambled off fact after fact about the construction of the cemetery, the historical backdrop against which it was built, and the 'artist'-he used the term loosely-who'd come up with the winged beast sculpture at the top of the monolith in the center of the grounds. Katniss' father peppered with questions-much to the teacher's irritation-while her mom ran her hands over the tops of the prettiest headstones, letting out a murmered "Oh my" every time she paused to read an inscription. Rue shuffled after Katniss' mother, possibly wishing she'd latched on to a different family for the day. And Katniss brough up the rear, considering what might happen if she were to give her parents her own personal tour of the cemetery.

_Here's where I served my first detention . . ._

_And here's where a falling marble statue nearly decapitated me . . ._

_And here's where a reform school boy you'd never approve of took me on the strangest picnic of my life._

"Gale," Mr Abernathy called as he led the tour around the monolith.

Gale was standing with a tall, dark-haired man in a tailored black business suit. Neither of them heard Mr Abernathy or saw the party he was leading on the tour. They were talking quietly and gesturing in a very involved manner at the oak tree, the way Katniss had seen her drama teacher gesture when the students were blocking a scene in a play.

"Are you and your father late arrivals to our tour?" Mr Abernathy asked Gale, a little more loudly.

Gale slowly turned his head their way, then back at his companion, who seemed amused. Katniss didn't think the man, with his classic, tall, dark, and handsome good looks and huge gold watch, looked old enough to be Gale's father. But maybe he just aged weel. Gale's eyes skimmed Katniss' bare neck and he seemed briefly disappointed. She blushed, because she could feel her mother taking in the whole scene and wondering just what was going on.

Gale ignored Mr Abernathy and approached Katniss' mother, drawing her hand to his lips before anyone could introduce them. "You must be Katniss' older sister," he said rakishly.

To her left, Rue gagged into her elbow and whispered so only Katniss could hear, "Please tell me someone is nauseated."

But Katniss' mom seemed somewhat dazzled, in a way that made Katniss-and her father, clearly-uncomfortable.

"No, we can't stay for the tour," Gale announced, winking at Katniss and drawing back just as her father approached. "But it was so lovely"-he glanced at each other the three of them, excluding only Rue-"to encounter you here. Let's go, _Dad_."

"Who was that?" Katniss' mother whispered when Gale and his father, or whoever he had been, disappeared back up the side of the cemetery.

"Oh, just one of Katniss' admirers," Rue said, trying to lighten the mood and doing the exact oppioste.

"_One_ of?" Katniss's father peered down at Rue.

In the late-afternoon light, Katniss could see for the first time a few grey whiskers in her dad's beard. She didn't want to spend today's last moments convincing her father not to worry about boys at her reform schoo.

"It's nothing Dad. Rue's kidding."

"We want you to be careful, Katniss," he said.

Katniss thought about what Peeta had suggested-quite strongly-the other day. That maybe she shouldn't be at Capitol Cross at all. And suddenly she wanted so badly to bring it up to her parents, to beg and plead for them to take her far away from here.

But it was that same memory of Peeta that made Katniss hold her tongue. The thrilling touch of his skin on hers when she'd pushed him down at the lake, the way his eyes were sometimes the saddest things she knew. It felt at once absolutely crazy and absolutely true that it might be worth all of this hell at Capitol Cross just to spend a little more time with Peeta. Just to see if anything might come of it.

"I hate goodbyes," Katniss' mother breathed, interuppting her daughter's thoughts to draw her in for a brisk hug. Katniss looked down at her watch and her face fell. She didn't know how the afternoon had gone by so quickly, how it could already be time for them to go.

"You call us on Wednesday?" her dad asked, kissing both her cheeks the way the French side of his family always did.

As they walked back up toward the parking lot, Katniss' parents gripped her hands. Each of them gave her another strong hug and series of kisses. When they shook Rue's hand and wished her well, Katniss saw a video camera clamped to the brick post housing a broken call box at the exit. There must have been a motion detector attached to the reds, because the camera was panning, following their movement. This one hadn't been on Johanna's tour and was certainly not a dead red. Katniss' parents noticed nothing-and maybe it was better that way.

Then they were walking away, looking back twice to wave at the two girls standing at the entrance to the main lobby. Dad cranked up his old black Chrysler New Yorker and rolled down the window.

"We love you," he called out so loudly that Katniss would have been embarrassed if she hadn't been so sad to see them go.

Katniss waved back. "Thank you," she whispered. _For the parlines and the okra. For spending all day here. For taking Rue under your wing, no questions asked. For still loving me despite the fact that I scare you._

When the taillights disappeared around the bend, Rue tapped Katniss' back. "I was thinking I'd go see my dad." She kicked the ground with the toe of her boot and looked bashfully at Katniss. "Any chance you'd want to come? If not, I understand, seeing as it involves another trip inside-" She jerked her thumb back toward the depths of the cemetery.

"Of course I'll come," Katniss said.

They walked around the perimeter of the cemetery staying high on the rim until they'd reached the far east corner, where Rue paused in front of a grave.

It was modest, white, and covered with a tawny layer of pine needles. Rue got down on her knees and started to wipe it clean.

STANFORD LOCKWOOD,the simple tombstone read. WORLD'S BEST FATHER.

Katniss could hear Rue's poignant voice behind the inscription, and she felt tears springing to her eyes. She didn't want Rue to see-after all, Katniss still had her parents. If anyone should cry right now, it should be . . . Rue _was_ crying. She was trying to hide it with the mildest of sniffles and a few tears wiped on the ragged hem of her sweater. Katniss got down on her knees too, and started helping brush the needles away. She put her arms around her friend and held on as tight as she could.

When Rue drew back and thanked Katniss, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter.

"I usually write him someting," she explained.

Katniss want to give Rue a moment alone with her father so she got up, took a step back, and turned away, treading down the slope toward the heart of the cemetery. Her eyes were still a little glassy, but she thought she could see someone sitting alone on top of the monolith. Yes. A guy with his arms wrapped around his knees. She couldn't imagine how he'd gotten up there, but there he was.

He looked stiff and lonely, as if he'd been there all day. He didn't see Katniss or Rue. He didn't seem to see anything. But Katniss didn't have to be close enough to see those violet-blue eyes to know who it was.

All this time Katniss had been searching for explanations about why Peeta's file was so sparse, what secrets his ancerstor's missing book held in the library, where his mind had traveled to that day she'd asked about his family. Why he'd been so hot and cold with her . . . always.

After such an emotional day with her own parents, the thought nearly brought Katniss to her knees with sadness.

Peeta was alone in the world.

_**A/N: Please R&R! :D **_


	15. Idle Hands

_**A/N: Second chapter in a day! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

_**Sorry for typos and/or mistakes :-)**_

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Idle Hands**

It rained all day on Tuesday. Pitch-black clouds rolled in from the west and churned over the campus, doing nothing to help clear Katniss' mind. The downpour came in uneven waves-drizzling, then pouring, then hailing-before it tapered off to start all over again. The students hadn't even been allowed to go outside during breaks and by the end of her calculus class, Katniss was going stir-crazy.

She realized this when her notes began to veer away from the mean value theroem and started looking more like this:

_September 15: Introductory flip-off from P_

_September 16: Statue toppling, band on head to protect me (alternately: just him groping for a way out): P's immediate exit._

_September 17: Potential misreading of P's head bob as suggestion that I attend Gale's party. Disturbing discovery of P&D's relationship (mistake?)_

Spelled out like that, it was the beginning of a pretty embarassing catalog. He was just so hot and col. It was possible he felt the same way about her-though, if pressed, Katniss would insist that any weirdness on _her_ part was only in response to utter weirdness on _his_ part.

No. This was _precisely_ the kind of circular arguement she did not want to engage in. Katniss didn't want to play any games. She just wanted to be with him. Only, she had no idea why. Or how to go about it. Or really, what being with him would mean. All she kenw was that, despite everything, he was the one she thought about. The one she cared about.

She'd thought if she could track every time they'd connected and every time he'd pulled away, she might be able to find some reason behind Peeta's erractic behaviour. But her list so far was only making her depressed. She crumpled the page into a ball.

When the bell finally rang to dismiss them for the day, Katniss hurried out of the classroom. Usually, she waited to walk with either Johanna or Rue, dreading the moment they parted ways, because then Katniss would be alone with her thoughts. But today, for a change, she didn't feel like seeing anyone. She was looking forward to some Katniss time. She had only one sure idea about how to take her mind off Peeta: a long, hard, solitary swim.

While the other students started trucking back toward their dorm rooms, Katniss pulled up the hood of her black sweater and darted into the rain, eager to get to the nataorium.

As soon as she bounded down the steps of Augustine, she plowed straight into something tall and black. Gale. When she jostled him, a tower of books teetered in his arms, then tumbled to the wet pavement with a series of thuds He'd had his own black hood pulled over his head and his earbuds blaring in his ears. He probably hadn't seen her coming either. They'd both been in their own worlds.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand to her back.

"I'm fine," Katniss said. She'd barely stumbled. It was Gale's books that had taken the spill.

"Well, now that we've knocked over each other's books, isn't the next step for our hands to accidently touch as we pick them up?"

Katniss laughed. When she handed him one of the books, he held onto her hand and squeezed it. The rain had soaked in his dark hair, and big drops gathered in his long, thick eyelashes. He looked really good.

"How do you say 'embarrassed' in French?" he asked.

"Um, _gene_," Katniss started to say, feeling suddenly a little _gene_ herself. Gale was still holding on to her hand. "Wait, aren't you the one who go an A on the French quiz yesterday?"

"You noticed?" he asked. His voice sounded strange.

"Gale," she said. "Is everything okay?"

He leaned toward her and brushed a drop of water she'd felt running down the bridge of her nose. The shingle touch of his forefinger made her shiver, and suddenly she couldn't help thinking about how wonderful and warm it might feel if he folded her into his arms the way he'd done at Blight's memorial.

"I've been thinking about you," he said. "Wanting to see you. I waited for you at the memorial, but someone told me you left."

Katniss got the feeling he knew whom she'd left with. And that he wanted her to know he knew.

"I'm sorry," she said, having to shout to be heard over a clap of thunder. By now they were both soaked from the streaming downpour.

"Come on, let's get out of this rain," Gale tugged her back toward the covered entrance to Augustine.

Katniss looked over his shoulder toward the gym and wanted to be there, not her or anywhere else with Gale. At least, not right now. Her head was brimming with too many confusing impulses, and she needed time and space away-from everyone-to sort them out.

"I can't," she said.

"How about later? How about tonight?"

"Sure, later, okay."

He beamed. "I'll come by your room."

He surprised her by pulling her in to him, just for the briefest moment, and kissing her gently on the forehead. Katniss felt instantly soothed, almost like she'd been given a shot or something. And before she had a chance to feel anything more, he'd released her and was walking quickly back toward the dorm.

Katniss shook her head and splashed slowly toward the gym. Clearly she had more to sort out than just Peeta.

There was a chance it might be good, fun even, to spend some time with Gale later tonight. If the rain let up, he'd probably take her to some secret part of campus and be all charismatic and gorgeous in that unnervingly still manner of his. He'd make her feel special. Katniss smiled.

Since she'd last set foot in Our Lady of Fitness (as Johanna had christened the gym) the school's maintenance staff had begun to fight the kudzu. They had stripped the green blanket away from much of the building's facade, but they were only half finished, and green vines dangled like tentacles across the doors. Katniss had to duck under a few long tendrils just so she could get inside.

The gym was empty, and pin-drop quiet compared to the thunderstorm outside. Most of the lights were off. She hadn't asked if she was allowed to use the gym after hours, but the door was unlocked, and, well, no one was there to stop her.

In the dim hallway, she passed the old Latin scrolls in the glass cases, and the miniature marble reproduction of the pieta. She paused in front of the door to the weight room, where she'd happened upon Peeta jumping rope. Sigh. That'd be a great addition to her catalog.

_September 18: P accuses me of stalking him._

_Followed two days later by:_

_September 20: Rue convinces me to really begin stalking him. I consent._

Ugh. She was in a black hole of self-loathing. And yet she couldn't stop herself. In the middle of the hallway, she froze. All at once she understood why this whole day she'd felt even more consumed by Peeta than usual, and also even more conflicted about Gale. She'd dreamed about them both last night.

She'd been wandering through a dusty fog, someone holding her hand. She'd turned, thinking it would be Peeta. But while the lips she pressed against were comforting and tender, they weren't his. They were Gale's. He gave her innumerable soft kisses, and every time Katniss peeked at him, his stormy grey eyes were open, too, boring into her, questioning her about something she couldn't answer.

Then Gale was gone, and the fog was gone, and Katniss was wrapped tightly in Peeta's arms, right where she wanted to be. He dipped her low and kissed her fiercely, as if he were angry, and each time his lips left hers, even for half a second, the most parching thirst ran through her, making her cry out. This time, she knew they were wings, and she let them wrap around her body like a blanket. She wanted to touch them, to fold them around her and Peeta completely, but soon the brush of velvet was receding, folding back on itself. He stopped kissing her, watched her face, waited for a reaction. She didn't understand the strange hot fear growing in the pit of her stomach. But there it was, making her uncomfortably warm, then blisteringly hot-until she could stand it no longer. That was when she jolted awake: In the dream's last moment, Katniss herself had seared and splintered-then had obliterated into ash.

She'd woken up soaked in sweat-her hair, her pillows, her pyjamas all wet and suddenly making her so, so cold. She'd lain there shivering and alone until morning's first light.

Katniss rubbed her rain-soaked sleeves to warm up. Of course. The dream had left her with a fire in her heart and a chill in her bones she'd been unable to reconcile all day. Which was why she'd come here for a swim, to try to work it out of her system.

This tine, her black speedo actually fit, and she'd remembered to bring a pair of goggles. She pushed open the door to the pool and stood under the high-dive platform alone, breathing in the humid air with its dull tang of chlorine. Without the distraction of the other students, or the trill of Coach Atala's whistle, Katniss could feel the presence of something else in the church. Something almost holy. Maybe it was only that the natatorium was such a gorgeous room, even with the rain pelting in through the cracked stain-glass windows. Even with none of the candles lit in the red side altars. Katniss tried to imaginie what the place had looked like before the pool had replaced the pews, and she smiled. She liked the idea of swimming under all those praying heads.

She lowered her goggles and leaped in. The water was warm, much warmer than the rain outside, and the crash of thunder outside sounded harmless and far away when she ducked her head underwater.

She pushed off and began a slow warm-up crawl stroke.

Her body quickly loosened up, and a few laps later, Katniss had increased her speed and began the butterfly. She could feel the burn in her limbs, and she pushed through it. This was exactly the feeling she was after. Totally in the zone.

If she could just talk to Peeta. Really talk, without him interuppting or telling her to transfer schoos or ducking out before she could get to her point. That might help. It might also require tying him up and taping his mouth shut so he'd listen to her.

But what would she even say? All she had to go on was this _feeling_ she got around him, which,if she thought about it, had nothing to do with any of their interactions.

What if she could get him back to the lake? He was the one who'd implied it had become _their_ place. This time, she could lead him there, and she'd be super-careful not to bring up anything that seemed to freak him out-

It wasn't working.

Crap. She was doing it again. She was supposed to be swimming. Just swimming. She'd swim until she was too tired to think about anything else, especially Peeta. She'd swim until-

"Katniss!"

Until she was interuppted. By Rue, who was standing at the side of the pool.

"What are you doing here?" Katniss asked, spitting water.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Rue returned. "Since when did you excercise willingly? I don't like this new side of you."

"How did you find me?" Katniss didn't realize until she'd said it that her words might have sounded rude, like she was trying to avoid Rue.

"Gale told me," Rue said. "We had a whole conversation. It was weird. He wanted to know if you were all right."

"That _is_ weird," Katniss agreed.

"No," Rue said, "what was weird was that he approached me and we had a whole conversation. Mr. Popularity . . . and _me_. Need I spell out my surprise further? Thing is, he was acutally really nice."

"Well, he _is_ nice." Katniss pulled her goggles off her head.

"To you," Rue said. "He's so nice to you that he snuck out of school to buy you that necklack-which you never wear."

"I wore it once," Katniss said. Which was true. Five nights before, after the second time Peeta left her stranded at the lake, alone with his path lit up in the forest. She hadn't been able to shake this image of it and hadn't been able to sleep. So she'd tried on the necklace. She'd fallen asleep clutching it near her collarbone, and woken up with it hot in her hand.

Rue was waving three fingers at Katniss, as if to say, _Hello? Your point is . . . ?"_

"My point is," Katniss said finally. "I'm not so superficial that all I'm looking for is a guy who buys me things."

"Not so superficial, eh?" Rue asked. "Then I dare you to make a non-superficial list of why you're so into Peeta. Which means no _He's got the loveliest little blue eyes _or_ Ooh, the way his muscles ripple in the sunlight._"

Katniss had to crack up at Rue's high falsetto and the way she held her hands clasped to her heart. "He just gets me," she said, avoiding Rue's eyes. "I can't explain it."

"He gets that you deserve to be ignored?" Rue shook her head.

Katniss had never told Rue about the times she'd spent alone with Peeta, the times when she'd seen a flash that he cared about her, too. So Rue couldn't really understand her feelings. And they were far too private and too complicated to explain.

Rue crouched down in front of Katniss. "Look, the reason I came to find you in the first place was to drag you to the library for a Peeta-related mission."

"You found the book?"

"Not exactly," Rue said, extending a hand to help Katniss out of the pool. "Mr. Mellark's masterpiece is still mysteriously missing, but I kind of sort of maybe hacked Miss Trinket's subscribers-only literary search engine and a couple of things turned up. I thought you might find them interesting."

"Thanks," Katniss said, hoisting herself out with Penn's help. "I'll try not to be annoyingly gushy over Peeta."

"Whatever," Rue said. "Just hurry up and dry off. We're in a brief no rain window outside and I don't have an umbrella."

~xXx~

Mostly dry and back in her school uniform, Katniss followed Rue to the library. Part of the front portion had been blocked off by yellow police tape, so the girls had to slip through the narrow space between the card catalog and the reference section. It still smelled like a bonfire, and now, thanks to the sprinklers and the rain, possessed an added mildewy quality.

Katniss took her first look at where Miss Trinket's desk had sat, now a charred, nearly perfect circle on the old tile floor in the library's center. Everything in a fifteen foot radius had been removed. Everything beyond that was strangely undamaged.

The librarian wasn't at her station, but a folding card table had been set up for her next to the burned spot. The table was depressingly bare, save for a new lamp, a pencil jar, and a grey pad of sticky notes.

Katniss and Rue gave each other a that-sucks grimace before they continued to the computer stations at the back. When they passed to the study section where they'd last seen Blight, Katniss glanced over at her friend. Rue kept her face forward, but when Katniss reached over and squeezed her hand, Rue squeezed back pretty hard.

They pulled two chairs up to one computer terminal, and Rue typed in her used name. Katniss glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby.

A red error box popped up on the screen.

Rue groaned.

"What?" Katniss asked.

"After four, you need special permission to access the Web."

"_That's_ why this place is always empty at night."

Rue was rooting through her backpack. "Where did I put that encrypted password?" she mumbled.

"There's Miss Trinket," Katniss said, flagging down the librarian, who was crossing the aisle in a black fitted blouse and bright green cropped pants. Her shimmery earrings dusted her shoulders, and she had a pencil poked into the side of her ear. "Over here," Katniss whispered loudly.

Miss Trinket squinted at them. "Who's that?" she called, walking over. "Oh Katniss. Rueabelle," she said, sounding tired. "Hello."

"We were wondering if you could give us the password to use the computer," Katniss asked, pointing at the error message on the screen.

"You're not doing social networking are you? Those sites are the devil's work."

"No, no, this is serious research," Rue said. "You'd approve."

Miss Trinket leaned over the girls to unlock the computer. Fingers flying, she typed in the longest password Katniss had ever seen. "You have twenty minutes," she said flatly, walking away.

"That should be enough," Rue whispered. "I found a critical essay on the Watchers, so until we track down the book, we can at least read up on what it's about."

Katniss sensed someone standing behind her and turned around to see that Miss Trinket had returned. Katniss jumped. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why you scared me."

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," Miss Trinket said. Her smile practically made her eyes disappear. "It's just been so hard recently, since the fire. But there's no reason for me to take my sorrow out on two of my most promising students."

Neither Katniss nor Rue really knew what to say. It was one thing to comfort each other after the fire. Reassuring the school librarian seemed a little bit out of their league.

"I've been trying to keep busy but . . ." Miss Trinket trailed off.

Rue glanced nervously at Katniss. "Well, we might be able to use some help with our research, if that is, you-"

"I can't help!" Miss Trinket tugged over a third chair. "I see you're looking into the Watchers," she said, reading over their shoulders. "The Mellarks were a very influential clan. And I just happen to know of a papal database. Let me see what I can pull up."

Katniss nearly choked on the pencil she'd been chewing. "I'm sorry, did you say Mellarks?"

"Oh yes, historians have traced them back to the Middle Ages. They were . . ." She paused, searching for the words. "A sort of research cluster, to put it in modern layperson's terms. They specialized in a certain type of fallen-angel folklore."

She reached between the girls again and Katniss marveled as her fingers raced across the keyboard. The search engine struggled to keep up, pulling up article after article, primary source after primary source, all on the Mellarks. Peeta's family name was everywhere, filling up the screen. Katniss felt a bit light-headed.

The image from her dream came back to her: unfurling wings, her body heating up until she smoldered into ash.

"There are different kinds of angels in specialize in?" Rue asked.

"Oh, sure-it's a whole body of literature," Miss Trinket said while she typed. "There are those who became demons. And those who threw in with God. And there are even ones who condorted with mortal women." At last her fingers were still. "Very dangerous habit."

Pen said, "Are these Watcher dudes any relation to the Peeta Mellark here?"

Miss Trinket tapped her pink lips. "It's quite possible. I wondered that myself but it's hardly out place to be digging into another student's business, wouldn't you agree?" Her pale face pinched into a frown as she looked at her watch. "Well, I hope I've given you enough to get started on your project. I won't hog any more of your time." She pointed at a clock on the computer screen. "You've only got nine minutes left."

As she walked back toward the front of the library, Katniss watched Miss Trinket's perfect posture. She could have balanced a book on her head. It did seem like it had cheered her up a little to help the girls with their research, but at the same tine, Katniss had no idea what to do with the information she'd just been given about Peeta.

Rue did. She'd already started scribbling furious notes.

"Eight and a hlaf minutes," she informed Katniss, handing her a pen and a piece of paper. "There's way too much here to make sense of in eight and a half minutes. Start writing."

Katniss sighed and did as she was told. It was a boringly designed academic Web page with a thin blue border framing a plain beige background. At the top, a header is a severe blocky font read: THE MELLARK CLAN.

Just reading the name, Katniss felt her skin warm.

Rue tapped the monitor with her pen, snapping Katniss' attention back to her task.

_The Mellarks do not sleep._ Seemed possible. Peeta always did look tired._ They are generally silent._ Check. Sometimes talking to him was like pulling teeth. _In an eighth-century decree-_

The screen went black. Their time was up.

"How much did you get?" Rue asked.

Katniss held up her sheet of paper. Pathetic. What she had was something she didn't even remember doodling: the feathered edges of wings.

Rue gave her a sideways glance. "Yes, I can see you're going to be an excellent research assisstant," she said, but she was laughing. "Maybe later we can theorize a game of MASH." She held up her own much more copious notes. "It's okay. I've got enough to lead us to a few other sources."

Katniss stuffed the paper into her pocket right next to the crumpled master list she'd started of all her interactions with Peeta. She was beginning to turn into her father, who didn't like to be anywhere too far away from his paper shredder. She bent down to look for a recycling bin and spotted a pair of legs walking down the aisle toward them.

The gait was as familiar as her own. She saw back up-or attempted to back up-and smacked her head on the underside of the table.

"Ow," she moaned, rubbing the spot where she'd hit her head in the library fire.

Peeta stood still a few feet away. His expression said that the last thing in the world he'd wanted to do right now was run into her. At least he'd show up after the computer had logged them off. He didn't to think she was stalkng him any more actively than he already did.

But Peeta seemed to be looking through her; his violet-blue eyes were fixed over her shoulder, on something-or someone else.

Rue tapped Katniss on the shoulder, then jerked her thumb toward the person standing behind her. Gale was leaning over Katniss' chair and grinning at her. A bolt of lightening sent Katniss practically jumping into Rue's arms.

"Just a storm," Gale said, cocking his head. "It'll blow over soon. Shame, because you look pretty cute when you're scared."

Gale reached forward. He started at her shoulder, then traced the edge of her arm with his fingers all the way down to her hand. Her eyes fluttered, it felt so good, and when she opened them, there was a small ruby velvet box in her hand. Gale flipped it open, just for a second, and Katniss saw a flash of gold.

"Open it later," he said. "When you're alone."

"Gale-"

"I went by your room."

"Can we-" Katniss glanced over at Rue, who was blatantly staring at them with a front-row moviegoer's captivation.

Finally snapping out of her trance, Rue waved her hands. "You want me to leave. I get it."

"No, stay," Gale said, sounding sweeter than Katniss expected. He turned to Katniss. "I'll go. But later-you promise?"

"Sure." She felt herself blush.

Gale took her hand and pushed it and the box down inside the front left pocket of her jeans. It was a tight fit, and it made her shiver to feel to fingers spread out on her hips. Then he winked and turned on his heel.

Before she'd even had a chance to catch her breath, he'd doubled back. "One last thing," he said, gliding his arm around her head and stepping close to her.

Her head tilted back and his tilted forward, and her mouth was hers. His lips were as plush as they'd seemed all the times Katniss had stared at them.

It wasn't deep, just a peck, but Katniss felt like it was much more. She couldn't breathe for the shock and the thrill and the public viewing potential of this very long, very unexpected-

"What the-!"

Gale's head had spun away, and then he was hunched over clutching his jaw.

Peeta was standing beside him, rubbing his wrist. "Keep your hands off her."

"Didn't hear you," Gale said, drawing himself up slowly.

Oh. My. God. They were fighting in the library. Over her.

Then, in one clean movement, Gale lunged toward Katniss. She screamed as his arms began to close around her.

But Peeta's hands were quicker. He swatted Gale away hard and shoved him against the computer table. Gale grinned and Peeta grabbed a fistful of his hair and pinned his head down flat. "I said you keep your filthy hands off her, you evil piece of shit."

Rue squeaked, picked up her pencil bag, and tiptoed over to the wall. Katniss watched as she tossed her dingy yellow pencil bag once, twice, three times in the air. The fourth time, it went high enough to nail the small black camera screwed into the wall. The hit sent the camera's lens swerving far to the left, toward a very still stack of non fiction books.

By then, Gale had thrown Peeta off and they were circling each other, their feet squeaking on the polished floor.

Peeta started ducking before Katniss even realized Gale was winding up. But Peeta still didn't duck quickly enough. Gale landed what looked like a knock out punch just below Peeta's eye. Peeta wheeled back from the force of it, jostling Katniss and Rue against the computer table. He turned and muttered a woozy apology before careening back around.

"Oh my God, stop!" Katniss cried, just before he leaped at Gale.

Peeta tackled Gale, throwing a messy flurry of punches at his shoulders and the sides of his face. "That feels good," Gale grunted, popping his neck from side to side like a boxer. Still hanging on, Peeta moved his hands around Gale's neck. And squeezed.

Gale responded by throwing Peeta back against a tall shelf of books. The impact boomed out into the library, louder than the thunder outside.

Peeta grunted and let go. He dropped to the floor with a thud.

"What else you got Mellark?"

Katniss reeled, thinking he might not get up. But Peeta pulled himself up quickly.

"I'll show you," he said. "Outside." He stepped toward Katniss, then away. "You stay here."

Then both boys thumped out of the library, through the back exit Katniss had used the night of the fire. She and Rue stood frozen to their spots. They stared at each other, jaws dropped.

"Come on," Rue said, dragging Katniss over to a window that looked out on the commons. They pressed their faces against the window, rubbing away the fog created by their breath.

The rain was coming down in sheets. The field outside was dark, except for the light that came in through the library windows. It was so muddy and slick, it was hard to see anything at all.

Two figures sprinted out to the center of the commons. Both of them were soaked instantly. They argued for a moment, and then started circling each other. Their fists raised.

Katniss gripped the windowsill and watched as Gale made the first move, running at Peeta and slamming into him with his shoulder. Then a quick spinning kick to his ribs.

Peeta keeled over, clutching his side. _Get up._ Katniss willed him to move. She felt like she had been kicked herself. Every time Gale went at Peeta, she felt it in her bones.

She couldn't stand to watch.

"Peeta stumbled for a second there," Rue announced after Katniss had turned away. "But he shot right up and totally clocked Gale in the face._ Nice!_"

"You're enjoying this?" Katniss asked, horrified.

"My dad and I used to watch UFC," Rue said. "Looks like both of these guys have had some serious mixed martial art training. Perfect cross, Peeta!" She groaned. "Aw, man."

"What?" Katniss peered out again. "Is he hurt?"

"Relax," Rue said. "Somone's coming to break up the fight. Just when Peeta was bouncing back."

Rue was right. It looked like Mr. Abernathy jogging across the campus. When he got to where the guys were fighting, he stood still and watched them for a moment, almost hynotized by the way they were going at it.

"Do something," Katniss whispered, feeling sick.

Finally, Mr. Abernathy grabbed each boy by the scruff of his neck. The three of them struggled for moment until finally Peeta pulled away. He shook out his right hand, then paced in a circle and spat a few times into the mud.

"Very attractive Peeta," Katniss said sarcastically. Except it was.

Now for a talking-to from Mr. Abernathy. He waved his hands madly at them and they stood with heads hung. Gale was first to be dismissed. He jogged off the filed toward the dorm and disappeared.

Mr. Abernathy placed a hand on Peeta's shoulder. Katniss was dying to know what they were talking about, whether Peeta would be punished. She wanted to go to him, but Rue blocked her.

"All that over a piece of jewelry. What did Gale give you, anyway?"

Mr. Abernathy walked off and Peeta was alone, standing in the light from an overhead lamppost, looking up at the rain.

"I don't know," Katniss said. "But I don't want it. Especially not after this." She walked back to the computer table and pulled the box out of her pocket.

"If you won't, I will," Rue said. She cracked the box open, then looked at Katniss, confused.

The flash of gold they'd seen had not been jewelry. There were only two things inside the box: another one of Gale's green guitar picks, and a golden slip of paper.

Even though she hardly cared for whatever Gale had wanted to say after what had just happened between him and Peeta, she read the message written on it. Either way she no longer wanted to be involved with Gale. It wasn't fair anyway. She was basically leading him on.

The message filled her with pain and dread.

_Meet me tomorrow after class. I'll be waiting at the gates ~ G_

_**A/N: Please R&R! :D**_


	16. The Lion's Den

_**A/N: MAJOR plot development in this chapter guys so buckle up and get ready for the ride ;)**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins**_

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Lion's Den**

It had been a long time since Katniss had taken a good look in the mirror. She never used to mind her reflection-her clear grey eyes; small, straight teeth; thick eye-lashes; and tumble of dense brown hair. That was then. Before last summer.

After her mom had chopped off all her hair, Katniss had started avoiding mirrors. It wasn't just because of her short cut; Katniss didn't think she liked who she _was_ anymore, so she didn't want to see any evidence. She started to look down at her hands when she washed them in the bathroom. She kept her head forward when walking past tinted windows and eschewed face powder in mirrored compacts.

But twenty minutes before she was supposed to meet Gale, Katniss stood before the mirror in the empty girls' bathroom in Augustine. She guessed she looked all right. Her hair was finally growing out, and the weight was starting to loosen some of her curls. She checked her teeth, then squared her shoulders and stared into the mirror as if she were looking Gale right in the eye. She had to tell him something, something important, and she wanted to make sure she could muster a look that demanded he take her seriously.

He hadn't been in class today. Neither had Peeta, so Katniss assumed Mr. Abernathy had put them both on some sort of probation. Either that or they were nursing their wounds. But Katniss had no doubt that Gale would be waiting for her today.

She didn't want to see him. Not at all. Thinking about his fists slamming into Peeta made her stomach lurch. But it was her fault they'd fought in the first place. She'd led Gale on-and whether she'd done it because she'd been confused or flattered or the tiniest bit interested didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that she be direct with him today: There was nothing between them.

She took a deep breath, tugged her shirt down on her hips, and pushed open the bathroom door.

Approaching the gates, she couldn't see him. But then, it was hard to see anything beyond construction zone in the parking lot. Katniss hadn't been back to the school entrance since they'd started the renovations there, and she was surprised at how complicated it was to maneuver across the ripped-up parking lot. She side-stepped potholes and tried to duck under the radar of the construction crew, waving off the asphalt fumes that never seemed to dissipate.

There was no sign of Gale. For a second, she felt foolish, almost like she'd fallen for some kind of prank. The high metal gates were blistered with red rust. Katniss looked through them at the dense grove of ancient elm trees across the road. She cracked her knuckles, thinking back to the time when Peeta had told her he hated it when she did that. But he wasn't here to see her do it; no one was. Then she noticed a folded piece of paper with her name on it. It was staked to the thick, grey-trunked magnolia tree next to the broken call box.

_I'm saving you from Social tonight. While the rest of our fellow students stage a Civil War reenactment-sad but true-you and I will paint the town red. A black sedan with a gold license plate will bring you to me. Thought we could both use a dose of fresh air_

_~G_

Katniss coughed from the fumes. Fresh air was one thing, but a black sedan picking her up from campus? To bring her to him, like he was some sort of monarch who could just arrange on a whim for women to be fetched? Where was he anyway?

None of this was part of her plan. She'd agreed to meet him to only tell him that he was being too forward and that she really couldn't see herself getting involved with him. Because-although she'd never tell him-every time he had struck Peeta the night before, something inside her had flinched and started to boil. Clearly, she needed to nip this little thing with Gale in the bud. She had the gold serpant necklace in her pocket. It was to give it back.

Except now she felt stupid for assuming that Gale just wanted to talk. Of course he'd have something more up his sleeve. He was that kind of guy.

The sound of car wheels slowing made Katniss turn her head. A black sedan rolled to a stop in front of the gates. The tinted black driver's-side window rolled down and a hairy hand came out and picked up the receiver from the call box outside the gates. After a moment, the receiver was slammed back into its cradle and the driver just leaned on his horn.

At last, the great groaning metal gates parted and the car pulled forward, stopping in front of her. The doors softly unlocked. Was she really going to get into that car and drive who-knew-where to meet him.

The last time she'd stood at these gates had been to say goodbye to her parents. Missing them before they'd even pulled away, she'd waved from this very spot, next to the broken call box inside the gates-and, she remembered, she'd noticed one of the more high-tech security cameras. The kind with a motion detector, zooming in on her every move. Gale couldn't have picked a worse spot for the car to pick her up.

All of a sudden, she saw visions of a basement solitary confinement cell. Damp cement walls and cockroached running up her legs. No real light. The rumours were still spreading through campus about that couple, Brutus and Enobaria, who hadn't been seen since they'd sneaked out. Did Gale think Katniss wanted to see him so badly she'd risk just walking off campus in plain view of the reds?

The car was still humming on the driveway in front of her. After a moment, the driver-a sunglasses sporting man with a thick neck and thinning hair-extended his hand. In it was a small white envelope. Katniss hesitated a second before stepping forward to take it from his fingers.

Gale's stationary. A heavy, cream ivory card with his name letterpressed in decadent gold at the bottom left hand corner.

_Should have mentioned before, the red's been duct. See for yourself. I took care of it, like I'll take care of you. See you soon, I hope._

Duct? Did he mean-? She glanced at the red. He did. A sharply cut black circle of black duct tape had been placed cleanly over the lens of the camera. Katniss didn't know how these things worked or how long it would take the faculty to find out, but in a weird way, she was relieved that Gale had thought to take care of it. She couldn't imagine Peeta thinking so far ahead.

Both Madge and her parents were expecting phone calls this evening. Katniss had read Madge's ten-page letter, three times, and she had all the funny details memorized from her friend's weekend trips to Nantucket, but she still wouldn't have known how to answer any of Madge's questions about her life at Capitol Cross. If she turned around and went inside to pick up the phone, she didn't how she'd begin to catch Madge or her parents up on the strange, dark twist the past few days had taken. Easier not to tell them at all, or not until she'd wrapped things up one way or another.

She slid into the sedan's plush beige leather backseat and buckled up. The driver put the car in gear without a word.

"Where are we going?" she asked him.

"Little blackwater place down the river. Mr. Hawthorne likes the local colour. Just sit back and relax honey. You'll see."

_Mr. Hawthorne?_ Who was this guy? Katniss had never liked being told to relax, especially when it felt like a warning not to ask any more questions. Nonetheless, she crossed her arms over her chest, looked out the window, and tried to forget the driver's tone when he called her "honey."

Through the tinted windows, the trees outside and the grey paved road beneath them all looked brown. They were following the river towards the shore. Every now and then, when their path and the river's converged, Katniss could see the brackish brown water twisting beside them. Twenty minutes later, the car slowed to a stop in front of a beat-up riverside bar.

It was made of grey, rotting wood, and a swollen, waterlogged sign over the front door read STYX in jagged red hand-printed letters. A stand of plastic pennants advertising beer had been stapled to the wood beam underneath the tin roof, a medicore attempt at festivity. Katniss studied the images silk-screened onto the plastic triangles-palm trees and tanned, bikini-clad girls with beer bottles at their grinning lips-and wondered when the last time she had been when a real live girl had actually set foot in this place.

Two older punk rock guys sat smoking on a bench facing the water. Tired Mohawks drooped over their middle-aged foreheads, and their leather jackets had the ugly, dirty look of something they'd been wearing since punk was new. The blank expression on their tan, slack faces made the whole scene feel even more desolate.

The swamp edging the two-lane highway had begun to overwhelm the asphalt, and the road just sort of peeled out into the swamp grass and mud. Katniss had never seen out this far in the river marshes.

As she sat, unsure what she'd do once she left the car, or whether that was even a good idea, the front door of the Styx banged open and Gale sauntered out. He leaned coolly against the screen door, one leg crossed over the other. She knew he couldn't see her through the tinted window of the car, but he raised his hand like he could and beckoned her toward him.

"Here goes nothing," Katniss muttered before thanking the driver. She opened the door and was greeted by a blast of salty wind as she climbed the three stpes to the bar's wooden porch.

Gale's shaggy hair was loose around his face and he ahd a calm look in his grey eyes. One sleeve of his black T-shirt was pushed up over his shoulder, and Katniss could see the smooth cut of his bicep. She fingered the gold chain in her pocket. _Remember why you're here._

Gale's face showed no sign of the fight the night before, which made her wonder, immediately, whether Peeta's did.

Gale gave her an inquisitive look, running his tongue along his bottom lip. "I was just calculating how many consolation drinks I'd need if you stood me up today," he said, opening his arms for a hug. Katniss stepped into them. Gale was a very hard person to say no to, even when she wasn't totally sure what he was asking.

"I wouldn't stand you up," she said, then immediately felt guilty, knowing that her words came from a sense of duty, not the romance Gale would have preferred. She was there only because she was going to tell him she didn't want to be involved with him. "So what is this place? And since when do you have a car service?"

"Stick with me, kid," he said, seeming to take her questions as compliments, as if she liked being whisked off to bars that smelled like the inside of a sink drain.

She was so bad at this kind of thing. Madge always said Katniss was incapable of brutal honesty and that was why she got herself stuck in so many crappy situations with guys whim she should have just told no. Katniss was trembling. She had to get this off her chest. She fished in her pocket and pulled out the pandant. "Gale."

"Oh good, you brought it." He took the necklace from her hands and spun her around. "Let me help you put it on."

"No, wait-"

"There," he said. "It really suits you. Take a look." He steered her along the creaking wooden floorboards to the window of the bar, where a number of bands had posted signs for shows. THE OLD BABIES. DRIPPING WITH HATE. HOUSE CRACKERS. Katniss would rather have studied any of them than gaze at her reflection. "See?"

She could really make out her features in the mud-flecked window pane, but the gold pendant gleamed on her warm skin. She pressed her hand to it. It _was_ lovely. And so distinctive, with its tiny hand-sculpted serpant snaking up the middle. It wasn't like anything you'd see at the boardwalk markets, where locals peddled over priced crafts for tourists, state of Georgia souvenirs made in the Philippines. Behind her reflection in the window, the sky was a rich orange-Popsicle colour, broken up by thin lines of pink cloud.

"About last night . . ." Gale started to say. She could vaguely see his rosy lips moving in the glass over her shoulder.

"I wanted to talk about last night, too," Katniss said, standing at his side. She could see the very tips of the sunburst tattoo on the back of his neck.

"Come inside," he said, guiding her back to the half-unhinged screen door. "We can talk in there."

The interior of the bar was wood-paneled, with a few dim orange lamps providing the only light. All sizes and shapes of antlers were mounted on the wall, and a taxi-dermined cheetah was poised over the bar, looking ready to lunge at any moment. A faded composite picture with the words PULASKI COUNTY MOOSE CLUB OFFICERS 1964-65 was the only other decortation on the wall, shocasing a hundred oval faces, smiling modestly above pastel bow ties. The jukebox was playing Ziggy Stardust, and an older guy with a shaved head and leather pants was humming, dancing alone in the middle of a small raised stage. Besides Katniss and Gale, he was the only other person in the place.

Gale pointed to two stools. The worn green leather cushions had split down the middle, the beige foam bursting out like massive pieces of popcorn. There was already a half-empty glass at the seat Gale claimed. The drink in it was light brown and watered down with ice, beaded with seat.

"What's that?" Katniss asked.

"Georgia moonshine," he said, taking a gulp. "I don't recommend it to start." When she squinted at him, he said, "I've been here all day."

"Charming," Katniss said, fingering the gold necklace. "What are you, seventy? Sitting in a bar by yourself all day?"

He didn't seem obviously drunk, but she didn't like the idea of coming all the way out here to break things off with him, only to have him to too trashed to understand it. She was also starting to wonder how she'd get back to school. She didn't even know where this place was.

"Ouch." Gale rubbed his heart. "The beauty of being suspended from class, Katniss, is that no one _misses_ you during class. I thought I deserved a little recovery time." He cocked his head. "What's really bothering you? Is it this place? Or the fight last night? Or the fact that we're getting _no service?_" He raised his voice to shout the last words, enough to cause a huge, burly bartender to swing in from the kitchen door with bangs, and tattos that looked like braided human hair running up and down his arms. He was all muscle and must have weighed three hundred pounds.

Gale turned to her and smiled. "What's your poison?"

"I don't care," Katniss said. "I don't have my own poison."

"You were drinking champagne at my party," Gale said. "See who's paying attention?" He nudged her with his shoulder. "Your finest champagne over here," he told the bartender, who threw back his head and let out a snide hacking laugh.

Making no attempt to card her or even to glance at her long enough to guess her age, the bartender bent down to a small refrigerator with a sliding glass door. The bottles blinked as he dug and dug. After what seemed like a long time, he reemerged with a tiny bottle of Freixenet. It looked like it had something orange growing around its base.

"I accept no responsiblity for this," he said, handing it over.

Gale popped the cork and raised his eyebrows at Katniss. He poured the Freixenet ceremoniously into a wineglass.

"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I know I've been coming on a little strong. And last night, what happened with Peeta, I don't feel good about that." He waited for Katniss to nod before he went on. "Instead of getting mad, I should have just listened to you. You're the one I care about, not him."

Katniss watched the bubbles rise in her wine, thinking that if she were to be honest, she'd say it was Peeta she cared about, not Gale. She _had_ to tell Gale. If he already regretted not having listened to her last night, maybe now he'd start to. She raised her glass to take a sip before she started in.

"Oh, wait." Gale put a hand on her arm. "You can't drink until we've toasted something." He raised his glass and held her eyes. "What should it be? You pick."

The screen doors slammed and the guys who have been smoking on the porch came back in. The taller one, with oily black hair, a snub nose, and very dirty fingernails, took one look at Katniss and started toward them.

"What are we celebrating?" He leered at her, nudging her raised glass with his tumbler. He leaned in close, and she could feel the flesh of his hips pressing into his through his flannel shirt. "Baby's first night out? What time's curfew?"

"We're celebrating you taking your ass back outside right now," Gale said as plesantly as if he'd just announced it was Katniss' birthday. He fixed his grey eyes on the man, who bared his small, pointed teeth and mouthful of gums.

"Outside, huh? Only if I take her with me."

He grabbed Katniss' hand. After the way the fight with Peeta had broken out, Katniss expected Gale would need little excuse to fly off the handle again. Especially if he really had been drinking here all day. But Gale stayed remarkably cool.

All he did was swat the guy's hand away with the speed, grace, and brutal force of a lion swatting a mouse. Gale watched the guy stumble back several steps. He shook out his hand with a bored look on his face, then stroked Katniss' wrist where the guy had tried to grab it. "Sorry about that. You were saying . . . about last night?"

"I was saying . . ." Katniss felt the blood drain from her face. Directly above Gale's head, an enormous piece of pitch-dark yawned open, stretching forth and unfolding itself until it had become the largest, blackest shadow she had ever seen. An artic gush of air blasted from its core, and Katniss felt the shadow's frost even on Gale's fingers, still tracing her skin.

"Oh. My. God," she whispered.

There was a crash of glass as the guy smashed his tumbler down on Gale's head.

Slowly, Gale stood from his chair and shook some of the shards of glass from his hair. He turned to face the man, who was easily twice his age and several inches taller.

Katniss cowered on her bar stool, rearing away from what she sensed was about to happen between Gale and this other guy. And what she feared _could_ happen with this sprawling, dead-of-night black shadow overhead.

"Break it up," the huge bartender said flatly, not even bothering to look up from his _fight_ magazine.

Immediately the guy started swining blindly at Gale, who took the senseless punches as if they were smacks from a child. Katniss wasn't the only one stunned by Gale's composure: The leather-pants-wearing dancer was cowering against the jukebox. And after the oily-haired guy had socked Gale a few times, even he stepped back and hung there, confused.

Meanwhile, the shadow was pooling against the ceiling, dark tendrils growing like weeds and dropping closer to their heads. Katniss winced and ducked just as Gale fended off one last punch from the seedy guy.

And then decided to fight back.

It was just a simple flick of his fingers, as if Gale were brushing away a dead leaf. One minute, the guy was all up in Gale's face, but when Gale's fingers connected with his opponent's chest, the dude went flying-knocked off his feet and into the air, discarded beer bottles scattered in his wake, until his back slammed against the wall near the jukebox.

The guy shook his head and, moaning, began to pull himself into a crouch.

"How did you do that?" Katniss' eyes were wide.

Gale ignored her, turned toward the guy's shorter, stockier friend, and said, "You next?"

The second guy raised his palms. "Not my fight, man," he said, shrinking away.

Gale shrugged, stepped toward the first guy, and lifted him off the floor by the back of his T-shirt. His limbs dangled helplessly in the air, like a puppet's. Then with an easy toss of his wrist, Gale threw the guy against the wall. He almost seemed to stick there while Gale cut loose, pounding the guy and saying again and saind, "I _said_ go outside!"

"Enough!" Katniss shouted, but neither one of them heard her or cared. Katniss felt sick. She wanted to tear her eyes away from the bloody nose and gums of the guy pinned against the wall, from Gale's almost superhuman strength. She wanted to tell him to forget it, that she'd find her own way back to school. She wanted, most of all, to get away from the gruesome shadow now coating the ceiling and dripping down the walls. She grabbed her bag and ran out into the night-

And right into someone's arms.

"Are you okay?"

It was Peeta.

"How did you find me here?" she asked, unabashedly burying her face in his shoulder. Tears she didn't want to deal with were welling up inside her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get you out of here."

Without looking back, she slipped her hand into his. Warmth spread up her arm and through her body. And then the tears began to flow. It wasn't fair to feel so safe when the shadows were so close.

Even Peeta seemed on edge. He was dragging her across the lot so quickly, she nearly had to sprint to keep up.

She didn't want to glance back when she sensed the shadows spilling out of the door of the bar and brewing in the air. But then, she didn't have to. They flowed in a steady stream over head, sucking up all the light in their path. It was as if the whole world were bring torn to pieces right before her eyes. A rotting sulfur stench stuck in her nose, worse than anything she knew.

Peeta glanced up, too, and scowled, only he looked like he was merely trying to remember where he'd parked. But then the strangest thing happened. The shadows flinched backward, boiled away in black splatters that pooled and scattered.

Katniss narrowed her eyes in disbelief. How had Peeta done that? _He_ hadn't done that, had he?

"What?" Peeta asked, distracted. He unlocked the passenger side door of a white Taurus station wagon. "Something wrong?"

"We do not have time to list all of the many, many things that are wrong," Katniss said, sinking into the car seat. "Look." She pointed toward the entrance of the bar. The screen door had just swung open on Gale. He must have knocked out the other guy, but he didn't look like he was done fighting. His fists were clenched.

Peeta smirked and shook his head. Katniss was fruitlessly stabbing her seat belt again and again at the buckle until he reached over and pushed her hands away. She held her breath as his fingers grazed her stomach. "There's a trick," he whispered, fitting the clasp into the base.

He started the car, then backed out slowly, taking his time as they drove past the door to the bar. Katniss couldn't think of a single thing to say to Gale, but it felt perfect when Peeta rolled down the window and simply said, "Good night, Gale."

"Katniss," Gale said, walking toward the car. "Don't do this. Don't leave with him. It will end badly." She couldn't look at his eyes, which she knew were pleading for her to come back. "I'm _sorry_."

Peeta ignored Gale entirely and just drove. The swamp looked cloudly in the twilight, and the woods in front of them looked cloudier.

"You still haven't told me how you found me here," Katniss said. "Or how you knew I went to meet Gale. Or where you got this car."

"It's Miss Trinket's," Peeta explained, turning on the brights as the trees grew together overhead and threw the road into dense shadow.

"Miss Trinket let you borrow her car?"

"After years living on skid row in L.A.," he said, shrugging, "you might say I've got a magic touch when it comes to 'borrowing cars'."

"You _stole_ Miss Trinket's car?" Katniss scoffed, wondering how the librarian would note this development in her files.

"We'll bring it back," Peeta said. "Besides, she was pretty preoccupied by tonight's Civil War reaanctment. Something tells me she won't even notice it's gone."

It was only then that Katniss realized what Peeta was wearing. She took in the blue Union soldier's uniform with its ridiculous brown leather strap slung diagoncally over his chest. She'd been so terrified of the shadows, of Gale, of the whole creepy scene, that she hadn't even paused to fully take Peeta in.

"Don't you laugh," Peeta said, trying not to laugh himself. "You got out of possibly the worst Social of the year tonight."

Katniss couldn't help herself: She reached forward and flicked one of Peeta's buttons. "Shame," she said, putting on a southern drawl. "I just had my belle-of-the-ball gown pressed."

Peeta's lips crept up in a smile, but then he sighed. "Katniss, what you did tonight-things could have gotten really bad, do you know that?"

Katniss stared at the road, annoyed that the mood had shifted so suddenly back to grim. A hoot owl stared back from a tree. "I didn't mean to come _here_," she said, which felt true. It was almost like Gale had tricked her. "I wish I hadn't," she added quietly, wondering where the shadow was now.

Peeta banged his fist on the steering wheel, making her jump. He was gritting his teeth, and Katniss hated that she was the one who'd made him so angry.

"I just can't believe you're involved with him," he said.

"I'm not," she insisted. "The only reason I showed up was to tell him . . ." It was pointless. Involved with Gale! If Peeta only knew that she and Rue spent more of their free time researching _his_ family . . . well, he would probably be equally annoyed.

"You don't have to explain," Peeta said, waving her off. "It was my fault, anyway."

"Your fault?"

By then Peeta had turned off the road and brought the car to a stop at the end of a sandy path. He switched the headlights off and they stared out at the ocean. The dusky sky was a deep plum shade, and the crests of the waves looked almost silver, sparkling. The beach grass whipped in the wind, making a high, desolate whistling sound. A flock of ragged seagulls sat in a line along the broadwalk railing, grooming their feathers.

"Are we lost?" she asked.

Peeta ignored her. He got out of the car and shut the door, started walking toward the water. Katniss waited ten agonizing seconds, watching his silhouette grow smaller in the purple twilight, before she hopped out of the car to follow him.

The wind whipped her hair against her face. Waves beat the shore, tugging lines of shells and seaweed back in their undertow. The air was cooler by the water. Everything had a fiercely briny scent.

"What's going on, Peeta?" she said, jogging along the dune. She felt heavier walking in the sand. "Where are we? And what do you mean, it's your fault?"

He turned to her. He looked so defeated, his costume uniform all bunched up, his grey eyes drooping. The roar of the waves almost overpowered his voice.

"I just need some time to think."

Katniss felt a lump rising in her throat all over again. She'd finally stopped crying, but Peeta was making this all so hard. "Why rescue me, then? Why come all the way out here to pick me up, then yell at me, then ignore me?" She wiped her eyes on the hem of her black T-shirt, and the sea salt on her fingers made them sting. "Not that that's very different from the way you treat me most of the time, but-"

Peeta spun around and smacked both his hands to his forehead. "You don't get it, Katniss." He shook his head. "That's the thing-you never do."

There was nothing mean about his voice. In fact, it was almost _too_ nice. Like she was too dim to grasp what ever was so obvious to him. Which made her absolutely furious.

"I don't get it?" she asked. "_I_ don't get it? Let me tell you something about what I get. You think you're so smart? I spent three years on a full academic scholarship at the best college-prep school in the country. And when they kicked me out, I had to pretition-petition!-to keep them from wiping my four-point-oh transcript."

Peeta moved away, but Katniss pursued him, taking a step forward for every wide-eyed step he took back. Probably freaking him out, but so what? He been asking for it every time he condescended her.

"I know Latin and French, and in middle school, I won the science fair three years in a row." She had backed him against the railing of the broadwalk and was trying to restrain herself from poking him in the chest with her finger. She wasn't finished. "I also do the Sunday crossword puzzle, sometimes in under an hour. I have an unerringly good sense of direction . . . though not always when it comes to guys."

She swallowed and took a moment to catch her breath.

"And someday, I'm going to be a psychiatrist who actually listens to her paitents and helps people. Okay? So _don't_ keep talking to me like I'm stupid and _don't_ tell me I don't understand just because _I_ can't decode _your_ erratic, flaky, hot-one-minute-cold-the-next, frankly"- she looked up at him, letting out her breath-"really hurtful behaviour." She brushed a tear away, angy with herself for getting so worked up.

"Shut up," Peeta said, but he said it softly and so tenderly that Katniss surprised both of them by obeying. "I don't think you're stupid." He closed his eyes. "I think you're the smartest person I know. And the kindest. And"-he swallowed, opening his eyes to look directly at her-"the most beautiful."

"Excuse me?"

He looked out at the ocean. "I'm just . . . so tired of this," he said. He did sound exhausted.

"Of what?"

He looked over at her, with the saddest expression on his face, as if he had lost something precious. This was the Peeta she knew, though she couldn't explain how or from where. This was the Peeta she . . . loved.

"You can show me," she whispered.

He shook his head. But his lips were still so close to hers. And the look in his eyes was so alluring. It was almost as if he wanted_ her_ to show him first.

Her body quaked with neves as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned toward him. She put her hand on his cheek and he blinked, but didn't move. She moved slowly, so slowly, as if she were scard to startle him, every second feeling pertrified herself. And then, when they were close enough that her eyes were almost crossing, she closed them and pressed her lips against his.

The softest, featherlight touch of their lips was all that connected them, but a fire Katniss never felt before coursed through her, and she knew she needed more of-all of-Peeta. It would be too much to ask of him to need her the same way, to fold her into his arms like he'd done so many times in her dreams, to return her wishful kiss with one more powerful.

But he did.

His muscled arms circled her waist. He drew her to him, and she could feel the clean line of their two bodies connecting-legs tangled up in legs, hips pressed into hips, chests heaving in time with each other. Peeta backed her up against the broadwalk's railing, pinning her closer to him until she couldn't move, until he had her exactly where she wanted to be. All of this without once breaking the passionate lock of their lips.

Then he started to really kiss her, softly at first, making subtly, lovely pecking noises in her ear. Then long and sweet and tenderly, along her jawline and down her neck, making her moan and tilt back her head. He tugged lightly on her hair and she opened her eyes to glimpse, for a second, the first stars coming out in the night sky. She felt closer to Heaven then she ever had before.

At last, Peeta returned to her lips, kissing her with such intensity-sucking her bottom lip, then edging his soft tongue just past her teeth. She opened her mouth wider, desperate to let more of him in, finally unafraid to show how much she yearned for him. To match the force of his kisses with her own.

She had sand in her mouth and between her toes, the briny wind raising goose bumps on her skin, and the sweetest, spellbound feeling spilling from her heart.

She could, at that moment, have died for him.

He pulled away and stared down at her, as if he wanted her to say something. She smiled and pecked him softly on the lips, letting hers linger on his. She knew no words, no better way to communicate what she was feeling, what she wanted.

"You're still here," he whispered.

"They couldn't drag me away." She laughed.

Peeta took a step back, and with a dark look at her, his smile was gone. He began facing in front of her, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked lightly, pulling his sleeve to pull him in for another kiss. He ran his fingers over her face, through her hair, around her neck. Like he was making sure she wasn't a dream.

Was this her real first kiss? She didn't think she was supposed to count Thresh, so technically it was. And everything felt so right, like she had been destined for Peeta, and he for her. He smelled . . . beautiful. His mouth tasted sweet and rich. He was tall and strong and . . .

Slipping from her embrace.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

His knees bent and he sank a few inches, leaning up against the wooden railing and looking at the sky. He looked like he was in pain.

"You said nothing could drag you away," he said in a hushed voice. "But they will. Maybe they're just running lare."

"They? Who?" Katniss asked, looking around at the deserted beach. "Gale? I think we lost him."

"No." Peeta started walking away down the broadwalk. He was shivering. "It's impossible."

"Peeta."

"It will come," he whispered.

"You're scaring me." Katniss followed behind, trying to keep up. But suddenly, even though she didn't want to, she had a feeling she knew what he meant. Not Gale, but something else, some other threat.

Katniss' mind went foggy. His words knocked on her brain, rining errily true, but the reasoning behind them eluded her. Like the wisp of a dream she couldn't remember the whole of.

"Talk to me," she said. "Tell me what's going on."

He turned, his face as pale as the bloom of a peony, his arms held out in surrender. "I don't know how to stop it," he whispered. "I don't know what to do."

_**A/N: Well, it finally happened. They k-i-s-s-e-d! Except, of course, what's wrong with Peeta? Why is he suddenly so worked up? Ah, well, you'll have to wait and see for that ;)**_

_**Questions are finally answered in the next chapter so stay tuned! :D**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	17. Hanging in the Balance

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay guys! Loonnnggg chapter here for you all! Thanks for the reviews!**_

_**Answers in this chapter! Excited yet? :)**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Hanging in the Balance**

Katniss stood at the crossroads between the cemetery on the north side of campus and the path to the lake on south. It was early evening and the construction workers had gone home. Light shifted down through the branches on the oaks behind the gym, casting dappled shadows on the lawn that led to the lake. Tempting Katniss toward it. She wasn't sure which way to go. She had two letters in her hands.

The first, from Gale, was the apology she had expected, and a plea for her to meet him after school to talk it out. The second, from Peeta, said no more than "Meet me at the lake." She couldn't wait to. Her lips still tingled from their kiss last night. She couldn't get the thought of his fingers in her hair, his lips on her neck, out of her mind.

Other parts of the night were hazier, like what had happened after she sat down next to Peeta on the beach. Compared to the way his hands had ravished her body not ten minutes earier, Peeta had seemed almost terrified to touch her.

Nothing could shake him from his daze. He kept murmring the same thing over and over- "Something must have happened. Something changed"-and staring at her with pain in his eyes, as if she held the answer, as if she had any idea what his words meant. At last, she'd fallen asleep leaning on his shoulder, looking out at the etheral sea.

When she woke up hours later, he was carrying her up the stairs back to her dorm room. She was startled to realize she'd slept through the whole ride back to school-and even more startled by the strange glow in the hallway. It was back. Peeta's light. Which she didn't even know if he could see.

Everything around them was bathed in that soft violet light. The white bumper-stickered doorways of the other students took on a neon hue. The dull linoleum tiles seemed to glow. The windowpane looking out on the cemetery cast a violet shine on the first hint of yellow morning outside. All of it directly under the gaze of the reds.

"We're so busted," she whispered, nervous and still half asleep.

"I'm not worried about the reds," Peeta said calmly, following her eyes to the cameras. At first his words were soothing, but then she started to wonder about something uneasy in his tone: If Peeta wasn't worried about the reds, he was worried about something else.

When he laid her down in her bed, he kissed her lightly on the forehead, then took a deep breath. "Don't disappear on me," he said.

"No chance of that."

"I'm serious." He closed his eyes for a long time. "Get some rest now-but find me in the morning before class. I want to talk to you. Promise?"

She squeezed his hand to pull him to her for one last kiss. She held his face between her palms and melted into him. Every time her eyes flickered open, his were watching her. And she loved it.

At last, he backed away, and stood in the doorway gazing at her, his eyes still doing as much to make her heart race as his lips had done a moment before. When he slinked back into the hallway and closed the door behind him, Katniss drifted off in the deepest sleep.

She's slept through her morning classes and had awoken in the early afternoon feeling reborn and alive. Not caring that she had no excuse for missing school. Only worried that she'd slept through meeting Peeta. She would find him as soon as she could, and he would understand.

Around two o'clock, when it finally occured to her to eat something or maybe pop in on Miss Trinket's religion class, she grudingly crawloed out of bed. That was when she saw the two envelopes that had been slipped underneath her door, which set her back severely in her goal of leaving her room.

She had to tell Gale off first. If she went to the lake before the cemetery, she knew she'd never be able to make herself leave Peeta. If she went first to the cemetery, her desire to see Peeta again would make her bold enough to say to Gale the things she'd been too nervous to say before. Before everything had gotten so scary and out of control last night.

Pushing through her fears about seeing him, Katniss started across the commons towards the cemetery. The early evening was warm, and the air was sticky with humidity It was going to be one of those sweltering nights when the breeze from the distant sea never got strong enough to cool things down. There was no one out on campus, and the leaves on the trees were still. Katniss could have been the only thing at Capitol Cross that was actually on the move. Everyone else would be released from class into the dining hall for dinner, and Rue-and possibly others-would be wondering where Katniss was by now.

Gale was leaning up against the lichen-speckled gates of the cemetery when she got there. His elbows rested on the carved vine-shaped iron posts, his shoulders hunched forward. He was kicking up a dandelion with the steel tip of his thick black boot. Katniss couldn't remember seeing him look so internally consumed-most of them time Gale seemed to have a keen interest in the world around him.

But this time, he didn't even look up at her until she was directly in front of him. And when he did, his face was ashen. His hair was flat against his head and she was surprised to notice that he could have used a shave. His eyes rolled over her face, as if focusing on each of her features required effort. He looked wrecked, not because of the fight, but simply as if he hadn't slept in a few days.

"You came." His voice was hoarse, but his words ended with a small smile.

Katniss cracked her knuckles, thinking he wouldn't be smiling much longer. She nodded and held up his letter. He reached for her hand, but she pulled her arm away, pretending she needed the hand to brush the hair out of her eyes.

"I figured you've be mad about last night," Gale said, pushing himself away from the gate. He took a few steps into the cemetery, then sat cross-legged on a short marble bench among the first row of graves. He wiped the dirt and brittle away, then patted the empty spot next to him.

"Mad?" she said.

"That's generally why people storm out of bars."

She sat down facing him, cross-legged too. From up here, she could see the top branches of the enormous old oak down in the center of the graveyard, where she and Gale had their afternoon picnic what seemed like a very long time ago.

"I don't know," Katniss said. "More like baffled. Confused, maybe. Disappointed." She shuddered at the memory of the seedy guy's eyes when he grabbed her, the sick flurry of Gale's fists, the deep black roof of shadow . . . "Why did you take me there? You know what happened when Enobaria and Brutus snuck out."

"Enobaria and Brutus were morons whose every move was monitored by tracking wristbands. Of course they were going to get busted." Gale smiled darkly, but not at her. "We're nothing like them, Katniss. Believe me. And besides, I wasn't trying to get in another fight." He rubbed his temples, and the skin around them bunched up, looking leathery and too thin. "I couldn't stand the way that guy talked to you, touched you. You deserve to be handled with the utmost care." His grey eyes widened. "I want to be the one to do it. The only one."

She tucked her hair behind her ears and took a deep breath. "Gale, you seem like a really great guy-"

"Oh, no." He covered his face with his hand. "Not the let-him-down-easy speech. I hope you're not going to say we should be friends."

"You don't want to be my friend?"

"You know I want to be much more than your friend," he said, spitting out 'friend' as if it were a dirty word. "It's Mellark isn't it?"

She felt her stomach constrict. She guessed it wasn't too hard to figure it out, but she'd been so wrapped up in her own feelings, she'd barely had time to consider what Gale thought about the two of them.

"You don't really know either of us," Gale said, standing and stepping away, "but you're prepared to chose right now, huh?"

It was persumptous of him to assume he was even still in the running. Especially after last night. That he could think there was some contest between him and Peeta.

Then Gale crouched before her on the bench. His eyes were different-pleading, earnest, as he cupped her hands in his. Katniss was surprised to see him so wound up. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling back. "It just happened."

"Exactly! It _just_ happened. What was it, let me guess-last night he _looked_ at you some new romantic way. Katniss, you're rushing into a decision before you even know what's at stake. There could be . . . a _lot_ at stake." He sighed at the confused look on her face. "I could make you happy."

"Peeta makes me happy."

"How can you say that? He won't even touch you."

Katniss closed her eyes, remembering the tangle of their lips last night on the beach. Peeta's arms encirling her. The whole world had felt so right, so harmionous, so safe. But when she opened her eyes, Peeta was nowhere to be seen.

It was only Gale.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, he will. He does."

Her cheeks felt warm. Katniss pressed a cool hand to them, but Gale didn't notice. His hands curled into fists.

"Elaborate."

"The way Peeta kisses me is none of your business." She bit her lip, furious. He was mocking her.

Gale chuckled. "Oh? I can do just as good as Mellark," he said, picking up her hand and kissing the back of it before abruptly letting it drop at her side.

"It was nothing like that," Katniss said, turning away.

"How about this, then?" His lips grazed her cheek before she could shrug him off.

"Wrong."

Gale licked his lips. "You're saying that Peeta Mellark actually_ kissed_ you the way you deserve to be kissed?" Something in his charcoal eyes was beginning to look baleful.

"Yes," she said, "the best kiss I've ever had." And even though it had been her only real kiss, Katniss knew that if you asked her again in sixty years, a hundred years, she would said the same thing.

"And yet here you are," Gale said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Katniss didn't like what he was insinuating. "I'm only out here to tell you the truth about me and Peeta. To let you know that you and I-"

Gale burst out laughing a loud, hollow cackle that echoed across the empty cemetery. He laughed so long and hard, he gripped his sides and wiped a tear away from his eyes.

"What's so funny?" Katniss said.

"You have no idea," he said, still laughing.

Gale's you-wouldn't-get-it tone wasn't far off from the one Peeta had used last night when, almost inconsolable, he kept repeating, "It's impossible." But Katniss' reaction to Gale was entirely different. When Peeta walled her out, she felt even more of a pull toward him. Even when they argued, she yearned to be with Peeta more than she ever wanted to be with Gale. But when Gale made her feel like an outsider, she was relieved. She didn't want to be any closer to him

In fact, right now, she felt too close to him.

She'd had enough. Gritting her teeth, she stood up and stalked toward the gates, angry at herself for wasting this much time.

But Gale caught up to her, swinging around and blocking her exit. He was still laughing at her, biting his lip, trying not to. "Don't go," he chuckled.

"Leave me alone."

"Not yet."

Before she could stop him, Gale caught her up in his arms and bent her backwards into a sweeping deep so that her feet came off the ground. Katniss cried out, struggling for a moment, but he smiled.

"Let _go_ of me!"

"Mellark and I have fought a pretty fair fight so far, don't you think?"

She glared at him, her hands pushing against his chest. "Go to Hell."

"You're misunderstanding," he said, drawing her face closer to his. His grey eyes bored down at her and she hated that a part of her still felt swept away in his gaze. "Look, I know things have gotten crazy the past couple of days," he said in a hushed voice, "but I care for you, Katniss. Deeply. Don't pick him before you let me have one kiss."

She felt his arms tighten around her, and suddenly, she was scared. They were out of sight of the school, and no one knew where she was. "It won't change anything," she told him, trying to sound calm.

"Humor me? Pretend I'm a soldier and you're granting my dying wish. I promise. Just one kiss."

Katniss' mind went Peeta. She pictured him waiting at the lake, keeping his hands busy skipping stones on the water, when he should have had her in his arms. She didn't want to kiss Gale, but what if he really wouldn't let her go? The kiss could be the smallest, most insignificant thing. The easiest to break loose. And then she'd be free to get back to Peeta. Gale had promised.

"Just one kiss-" she started, but then his lips were on hers.

Her second kiss in as many days. Where Peeta's kiss had been hungry and almost desperate, Gale's kiss was gentle and too perfect, as if he had been practicing on a hundred girls before her.

And yet she felt something in her rise up, wanting for her to respond, taking hold of the anger she'd felt only moments before and blowing it away into nothing. Gale still had her tilted back in his arms, balancing her weight on his knee. She felt safe in his strong, capable hands. And she needed to feel safe. It was such a change from, well, every moment she wasn't kissing Gale. She knew that she was forgetting something, someone-who? she couldn't even remember. There was only the kiss, his lips and-

Suddenly, she felt herself falling. She slammed into the ground so hard the wind was knocked out of her. Raising herself up on her arms, she watched as, inches away, Gale's face came into contact with the ground. She winced despite herself.

The early evening sun cast a dusty light on two figures in the graveyard.

"How many times must you ruin this girl?" Katniss heard the sad, southern drawl.

_Delly?_ She looked up, blinking into the setting sun.

Delly and Peeta.

Delly rushed over to help her to her feet, but Peeta wouldn't even look her in the eye.

Katniss cursed herself under her breath. She couldn't figure out what was wrose-that Peeta had just seen her kissing Gale, or that-she was sure-Peeta was going to fight Gale again.

Gale stood up and faced them, ignoring Katniss completely. "All right, which one of you is it going to be this time?" he snarled.

This time?

"Me," Delly said, stepping forward with her hands on her hips. "That first little love tap was all me, Gale honey. What are you going to do about it?"

Katniss shook her head. Delly had to be joking. Surely this was some sort of game. But Gale didn't seem to think anything was funny. He bared his teeth and rolled up his sleeves, raising his fists and moving forward.

"Again Gale?" Katniss scolded. "You haven't gotten in enough fights already this week?" As if that weren't enough, he was actually going to hit a girl.

He shot her a sideways smile. "Third time's the charm," he said, his voice dripping in malice. He turned back just as Delly came at him with a high kick to the jaw.

Katniss scurried backwards as Gale fell. His eyes were pinched shut and he was clutching his face. Standing over him, Delly looked unfazed as if she'd just pulled a perfectly baked cobbler from the oven. She glanced down at her perfect nails and sighed.

"Gonna be a shame to have to beat up on you just when I touched up my manicure. Oh well," she said, starting to kick Gale repeatedly in the stomach, relishing each kick like a kid winning at an arcade game.

He staggered up into a crouch. Katniss couldn't see his face anymore-it was buried between his knees-but he was moaning in pain and choking on his own breath.

Katniss stood and looked from Delly to Gale and back, unable to make sense of what she was seeing. Gale was twice the size as her, but Delly seemed to have the upper hand. Just yesterday, Gale beat up the huge guy at the bar. And the other night, Peeta and Gale had seemed evenly matched. She marveled at Delly, with her rainbow ribbon holding her hair back in a high ponytail. Now she had Gale pinned to the gournd and was twisting his arm back.

"Uncle?" she taunted. "Just say the word and I'll let you go."

"Never," Gale spat into the ground.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, and shoved his head down into the dirt, hard.

Peeta put his hand behind Katniss' neck. She relaxed against him and looked back, terrified to see his expression. He must hate her right now.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Gale, he-"

"Why would you come here to meet him?" Peeta sounded hurt and incensed at the same time. He grabbed her chin to make her look at him. His fingers were freezing against her skin. His eyes were all violet, no blue.

Katniss' lip quivered. "I thought I could take care of it. Be up-front with Gale so that you and I could just be together and not have to worry about anything else."

Peeta snorted, and Katniss realized how stupid she sounded.

"That kiss . . ." she said, wringing her hands. She wanted to spit it from her mouth. "It was such a huge mistake."

Peeta closed his eyes and turned away. Twice he opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He gripped his hair in his hands and swayed. Watching him, Katniss feared he might cry. Finally, he took her in his arms.

"Are you mad at me?" She buried her face in his chest and breathed in the sweet smell of his skin.

"I'm just glad we got here in time."

The sound of Gale's whimpers made both of them glance over. Then grimace. Peeta took Katniss' hand and tried to pull her away, but she couldn't take her eyes off Delly, who had Gale in a headlock and wasn't even winded. Gale looked battered and pathetic. It just didn't make any sense.

"What's going on, Peeta?" Katniss whispered. "How can Delly beat the crap out of Gale? Why is he letting her?"

Peeta half sighed, half chuckled. "He's not letting her. What you're seeing is only a sample of what that girl can do."

She shook her head. "I don't understand. How-"

Peeta stroked her cheek. "Will you take a walk with me?" he asked. "I'm going to try to explain things, but I think you should probably sit down."

Katniss had a few things of her own to come clean about to Peeta. Or, if not to come clean about, at least to throw out into the conversation, to see if he showed signs of thinking she was completely, verifiably derranged. That violet light, for one thing. And the dreams she couldn't-didn't want to-stop.

Peeta led her toward a part of the cemetery Katniss had never seen before, a clear, flat space where two peach trees had grown together. Their trunks bowed toward each other, forming the outline of a heart in the air below them.

He led her under the strange, gnarled coupling of the branches and took her hands, tracing her fingers with his. The evening was quiet except for the song of crickets. Katniss imained all the other students in the dining hall. Spooning mashed potatoes onto their trays, slurping thick room-temperature milk through a straw. It was as if, all of a sudden, she and Peeta were on a different plane of being from the rest of the school. Everything but his hand around hers, his hair shining in the light of the setting sun, his warm blue eyes-everything she felt so far away.

"I don't know where to start," he said, pressing harder as he massaged her fingers, like he could rub the answer out. "There's so much to tell you, and I have to get it right."

As much as she wanted Peeta's words to be a simple confession of love, Katniss knew better. Peeta had something difficult to say, something that might explain a lot about him, but might be hard for Katniss to hear.

"Maybe do one of those I-have-good-news-and-bad-news kind of things?" she suggested.

"Good idea. Which do you want first?"

"Most people want the good news first."

"Maybe so," he said. "But you are worlds away from most people."

"Okay, I'll take the bad news first."

He bit his lip. "Then promise me you won't leave before I get to the good news?"

She had no plans to leave. Not now, now that he was no longer pushing her away. Not when he might be about to offer up some answers to the long list of questions she'd been obsessing over the past few weeks.

He brought her hands to his chest and held them against his heart. "I'm going to tell you the truth," he said. "You won't believe me, but you deserve to know. Even if it kills you."

"Okay." A raw knot of pain took hold of Katniss' insides, and she could feel her knees start to shake. She was glad when Peeta made her sit down.

He paced back and forth, then took a deep breath. "In the Bible . . ."

Katniss groaned. She couldn't help it; she had a knee jerk reaction to Sunday school talk. Besides, she wanted to discuss the two of them, not some moralistic parable. The Bible wasn't going to hold the answers to any of the questions she had about Peeta.

"Just listen," he said, shooting her a look. "In the Bible, you know how God makes a big deal about how everyone should love him with all their soul? How it has to be unconditional, and unrivaled?"

Katniss shrugged. "I guess so."

"Well-" Peeta seemed to be searching for the right words. "That request doesn't only apply to people."

"What do you mean? Who else? Animals?"

"Sometimes, sure," Peeta said. "Like the serpant. He was damned after he tempted Eve. Cursed to slither on the ground forever."

Katniss shivered, thinking back to Gale. The snake. Their picnic. The necklace. She rubbed at her clean, bare neck, glad to be rid of it.

He ran his fingers down her hair, along her jawline, and into the hollow of her neck. She sighed, in a state of bliss.

"I'm trying to say . . . I guess you could say I'm damned, too, Katniss. I've been damned for a long, long time." He spoke as if the words tasted bitter. "I made a choice once, a choice that I believed in-that still believe in, even though-"

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head.

"Of course you don't," he said, dropping down onto the ground next to her. "And I don't have the best track record at explaining it to you." He scratched his head and lowered his voice, like he was speaking to himself. "But all I can do it try. Here goes nothing."

"Okay," she said. He was confusing her, and he'd barely even said anything yet. But she tried to act less lost than she felt.

"I fall in love," he explained, taking her hands and holding them tightly. "Over and over again. And each time it ends catastrophically."

"Over and over again." The words made her ill. Katniss closed her eyes and withdrew her hands. He'd already told her this. That day at the lake. He'd had breakups. He'd been burned. Why bring up those other girls now? It had hurt then and it hurt even more now, like a sharp pain in her ribs. He squeezed her fingers.

"Look at me," he pleaded. "Here's where it gets hard."

She opened her eyes.

"The person I fall in love with each time is you."

She'd been holding her breath, and meant to exhale, but it came out as a sharp, cutting laugh

"Right, Peeta," she said, starting to stand up. "Wow, you really are damned. That sounds horrible."

"Listen." He pulled her back down with a force that made her shoulder throb. His eyes flashed violet and she could tell he was getting angry. Well, so was she.

Peeta looked up into the peach tree canopy, as if for help. "The problem isn't loving you."

She took a deep breath. "What is it?" She willed herself to listen, to be stronger and not to feel hurt. Peeta looked like he was broken up enough for both of them.

"I get to live forever," he said.

The trees rustled around them, and Katniss noticed the faintest trickle of a shadow out of the corner of her eye. Not the sick, all-consuming swirl of blackness from the bar last night, seething coldly around the corner, but it was waiting. Katniss felt a deep chill, down in he bones. She couldn't shake the sensation that something colossal, black as night, something _final_ was on its way.

"I'm sorry," she said, dragging her eyes back to Peeta. "Could you, um, say that again?"

"I get to live forever," he repeated. Katniss was still lost but he kept talking, a stream of words pouring out of his mouth. "I get to live, and to watch babies being born, and grow up, and fall in love. I watch them have babies of their own and grow old. I watch them die. I am damned, Katniss, to watch it happen over again and again. Everyone but you." His eyes were glassy. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't get to all in love-"

"But . . ." she whispered back. "I've fallen in love."

"You don't get to have babies and grow old, Katniss."

"Why not?"

"You come along every seventeen years."

"Please-"

"We meet. We _always_ meet, somehow we're always thrown together, no matter where I go, no matter how I try to distance myself from you. It never matters. You always find me."

He was staring down at his clenched fists now, looking like he wanted to hit something, unable to raise his eyes.

"And every time we meet, you fall for me-"

"_Peeta-_"

"I can resist you or flee from you or try my hardest not to respond to you, but it makes no difference. You fall in love with me, and I with you."

"Is that so terrible?"

"And it kills you."

"Stop it!" she cried. "What are trying to do? Scare me away?"

"No." He snorted. "It wouldn't work, anyway."

"If you don't want to be with me . . ." she said, hoping that it was all an elaborate joke, a breakup speech to end all breakup speeches, and not the truth. It could not be the truth. " . . . there's probably a more believeable story to tell."

"I know you can't believe me. This is why I couldn't tell you until now, when I _have_ to tell you. Because I thought I understood the rules and . . . we kissed, and now I don't understand anything."

His words from the night before came back to her. _I don't know how to stop it. I don't know what to do._

"Because you kissed me."

He nodded.

"You kissed me and when we were done, you were surprised."

He nodded again, having the grace to look a little sheepish.

"You kissed me," Katniss continued, searching for a way to put it all togehter, "and you thought I wasn't going to _survive _it?"

"Based on previous experience," he said hoarsely. "Yes."

"That's just crazy," she said.

"It's not about the kiss this time, it's about what it means. In some lives we can kiss, but in most we can't." He stroked her cheek, and she wrestled with how good it felt. "I must say, I prefer the lives where we can kiss." He looked down. "Though it does make losing you that much harder."

She wanted to be mad at him. For making up such a bizarre story when they should have been locked in an embrace. But something was there, like an itch at the back of her mind, telling her not to run from Peeta now, but to stick around and listen as long as she could.

"When you _lose_ me," she said, feeling out the shape of the word in her mouth. "How does it happen? Why?"

"It depends on you, on how much you can see about our past, on how well you've come to know me, who I am." He tossed his hands up in a shrug. "I know this sounds incredibly-"

"Crazy?"

He smiled. "I was going to say vague. But I'm trying not to hide anything from you. It's just a very, very delicate subject. Sometimes, in the past, just talking like this has . . ."

She watched for the shape of the words on his lips, but he wouldn't say anything.

"Killed me?"

"I was going to say 'broken my heart.'"

He was in obvious pain and Katniss wanted to comfort him. She could feel herself drawn, something in her breast tugging her forward. But she couldn't. That was when she felt certain that Peeta knew about the glowing violet light. That he had everything to do with it.

"What are you?" she asked. "Some kind of-"

"I wander the earth always knowing at the back of my mind that you're coming. I started hiding from you-from the heartbreak I knew was inevitable-you started seeking me out. It didn't take long to realize that you came around every seventeen years."

Katniss' seventeenth birthday had been in late May. It had been a sad celebration, just Katniss, her parents and a store-bought cake. There were no candles, just in case. And what about her family? Did they come back every seventeen years too?

"It's not enough for me to ever have gotten over the last time," he said. "Just long enough that I let my guard down again."

"So you knew I was coming?" she asked dubiously. He looked serious, but she still couldn't believe him. She didn't want to.

Peeta shook his head. "Not the day you showed up. It's not like that. Don't you remember my reaction when I saw you?" He looked up, like he was thinking back on it himself. "For the first few seconds every time, I'm always so elated. I forget myself. Then I remember."

"Yes," she said slowly. "You smiled, and then . . . is _that_ why you flipped me off?"

He frowned.

"But if this happens every seventeen years like you say," she said. "you still _knew_ I was coming. In some sense, you knew."

"It's complicated, Katniss."

"I saw you that day, before you saw me. You were laughing with Finnick outside Augustine. You were laughing so hard I was jealous. If you know all this, Peeta, if you're so smart that you can predict when I'm going to come, and when I'm going die, and how hard all of that is going to be for _you,_ how could you laugh like that? I don't believe you," she said, feeling her voice tremble. "I don't believe any of this."

Peeta gently pressed his thumb to her eye to wipe away a tear. "It's such a beautiful question, Katniss. I adore you for asking it, and I wish I could explain it better. All I can tell you is this: The only way to survive eternity is to be able to appreciate each moment. That's all I was doing. "

"Eternity," Katniss repeated. "Yet another thing I wouldn't understand."

"It doesn't matter. I can't laugh like that anymore. As soon as you show up, I'm overtaken."

"You're not making any sense," she said, wanting to leave before it got too dark. But Peeta's story was so much more than nonseniscal. The whole time she'd been at Capitol Cross, she'd half believed she was crazy. Her madness paled in comparison to Peeta's.

"There's no manual for how to explain this . . . _thing _to the girl you love," he pleaded, brushing her hair with his fingers. "I'm doing the best I can. I want you to believe me, Katniss. What do I need to do?"

"Tell a different story," she said bitterly. "Make up a saner excuse."

"You said youself you felt as if you knew me. I tried to deny it as long as I could because I knew this would happen."

"I felt I knew you from somewhere, sure," she said. Now her voice was clotted with fear. "Like the mall, or summer camp or something. Not some _former_ _life."_ She shook her head. "No . . . I can't."

She covered her ears. Peeta uncovered them.

"And yet you know your heart that it's true." He clapsed her knees and looked at her deepy in the eyes. "You knew it when I followed you to the top of Corcovado in Rio, when you wanted to see the statue up close. You knew it when I carried you two sweaty miles to the River Jordon after you got sick outside Jerusalem. I told you not to eat all those dates. You knew it when you were my nurse in that Italian hospital during the first World War, and before that when I hid in your cellar during the tsar's purge of St. Petersburg. When I scaled the turred of your castle in Scotland during the Reformation, and danced you around and around the king's coronation ball at Versailles. You were the only woman dressed in black. There was that artists' colong in Quintana Roo, and the protest march in Cape Town where we both spent the night in the pen. The opening of the Globe Theater in London. We had the best seats in the house. And when my ship wrecked in Tahiti, you were there, as you were when I was a convict in Melbourne, and a pick-pocket in eighteenth-century Nimes, and a monk in Tibet. You turn up everywhere, always, and sooner or later you sense all the things I've just told you. But you won't let yourself accept what you feel might be the truth."

Peeta stopped to catch his breath and looked past her, unseeing. Then he reached over, pressing her knee and sending that fire through her again.

She closed her eyes, and when she'd opened them, Peeta was holding a perfect yellow dandelion. She turned to see where he got it from, how she hadn't noticed it before. There were only weeds and the rotting flesh of fallen fruit. They held no flower together.

"You knew it when you picked wild dandelions every day for a month that summer in Helston. Remember that?" he stared at her, like he was trying to see inside her. "No," she sighed after a moment. "Of course you don't. I envy you for that."

But even as he said it, Katniss' skin began to feel as if it were responding to the words her brain didn't know what to make of. Part of her wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"I do all of these things," Peeta said, leaning into her so their foreheads touched, "because you're my love, Katniss. For me, all you're all there is."

Katniss' lower lip was trembling. Her hands went slack in his. The flower's petals sifted through their fingers to the ground.

"Then why do you look so sad?"

It was all too much to even begin to think about. She leaned away from Peeta and stood up, wiping the leaves and grass from her jeans. Her head was spnning. She had lived . . . _before?_

"Katniss."

She waved him off. "I think I need to go somewhere by myself, to lie down." She leaned her weight on the peach tree. She felt weak.

"You're not okay," he said, standing up and taking her hand.

"No."

"I'm so sorry," Peeta sighed. "I don't know what I expected to happen, telling you. I shouldn't have . . ."

She would never have thought a moment could come when she'd need a break from Peeta, but she had to get away. The way he was looking at her, she could tell he wanted her to say she would find him later, that they would talk about things more, but she was no longer sure that was a good idea. The more he said, the more she felt something waking up inside her-something she wasn't sure she was ready for. She didn't feel crazy anymore-and she wasn't sure Peeta was, either. To anyone else, his explanation would have less and less sense as it went along. To Katniss . . . she wasn't sure yet, but what if Peeta's words were _answers_ that could make sense out of her whole life? She didn't know. She felt more afraid than she ever had before.

She shook his hand loose and started toward her dorm. A few strides away, she stopped and slowly turned.

Peeta hadn't moved. "What is it?" he asked, lifting his chin.

She stood where she was, at a distance from him. "I promised you I'd stick around long enough to hear the good news."

Peeta's face relaxed into an almost smile. But there was something vexed about his expression. "The good news is-"

He paused, carefully choosing his words.

"The good news is . . . I kissed you, and you're still here."

_**A/N: I'm not sure what to say cuz' I don't want to ruin anything that's going to happen in the future . . .**_

_**R&R with your thoughts! Is Peeta crazy? Or is he telling the truth? Hmmm? :-D**_


	18. An Open Book

_**A/N: OMJ extra chapter! You guys are lucky I got so excited that I update twice in one day! :D :D**_

_**(Since this is the second update in one day, make sure you have read the previous chapter before you read this one)**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Seventeen**

**An open Book**

Katniss collapsed onto her bed, giving the weary springs a jolt. After she'd fled the cemetery-and Peeta-she'd practically sprinted up to her room. She hadn't even bothered to turn on a light, so she'd tripped over her desk chair and stubbed her toe hard. She'd curled into a ball and gripped her trobbing foot. At least the pain was something real that she could cope with, something sane and of this world. She was so glad to finally be alone.

There was a knock on her door.

She just _couldn't_ catch a break.

Katniss ignored the knock. She didn't want to see anyone, and whoever it was would get the hint. Another knock. Heavy breathing and a phelgmy, allergy-ridden throat-clearing sound.

Rue.

She couldn't see Rue right now. She'd either _sound_ crazy if she tried to explain all that had happened to her in the last twenty four hours, or she'd _go_ crazy trying to put on a normal face and keep it to herself.

Finally, Katniss heard Rue's footsteps treading away down the hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief, which turned into a long, lonely whimper.

She wanted to blame Peeta for unleashing this out-of-control feeling inside her, and for a second, she tried to imagine her life without him. Except that was almost impossible. Like trying to remember your first impression of a house after you've lived in it for years. That was how much he had gotten to her. And now she had to figure out a way to wade through all the strange things he'd told her tonight.

But at the edge of her mind, she kept sprialling back to what he'd said about times they'd spent together in the past. Maybe Katniss couldn't exactly remember the moments he'd described or the places he'd mentioned but, in a strange way, his words _weren't_ as shocking at all. It was all somehow familiar.

For example, she had always inexplicaly hated dates. Even the sight of them made her feel queasy. She's started claiming she was allergic so her mum would stop trying to sneak them into things she baked. And she'd been begging her parents to take her to Brazil practically her whole life, though she could never explain exactly why she wanted to go. The yellow dandelions. Peeta had given her a bouquet after the fire in the library. There had always been something so unusual about them, yet so familiar.

The sky outside her window was deep charcoal, with just a few puffs of white cloud. Her room was so dark, but full blooms of the flowers on her windowsill stood out in the dimness. They'd sat in their vase for a wekk now, and not a single petal had withered.

Katniss sat up and inhaled their sweetness.

She couldn't blame him. Yes, he sounded crazy, but he was also right-she was the one who had come to him again and again suggesting that they had some sort of history. And it wasn't only that. She was also the one who saw the shadows, the one who kept finding herself involved in the deaths of innocent people. She'd been trying not to think about Thresh and Blight when Peeta started talking about her own _deaths_-how he had watched her die so many times. If there had been any way to fathom such a thing. Katniss would have wanted to ask whether Peeta ever felt responsible. For the loss of her. Whether his reality was anything like the secret, ugly, overriding guilt she faced every day.

She sank onto the desk chair, which somehow made its way to the middle of the room. Ouch. When she reached underneath her, hand groping for whatever hard object she'd just plopped down on, she found a thick book.

Katniss moved to the wall and flicked on her light switch, then squinted in the ugly fluorscent light. The book in her hands was one she'd never seen before. It was bound in the palest grey cloth, with frayed corners and brown glue crumbling at the bottom of the spine.

_The Watchers: Myth in Medieval Europe_.

Peeta's ancestor's book.

It was heavy and smelled faintly of smoke. She tugged out the note that was tucked inside the front cover.

_Yes. I found a spare key and entered you room unlawfully. I'm sorry. But this is URGENT! And I couldn't find you anywhere. Where are you? You need to look at this, and then we need to have a powwow. I'll swing by in an hour. Proceed with caution._

_xoxo, _

_Rue._

Katniss laid the note next to the flowers and took the book back to her bed. She sat down with her legs dangling over the edge. Just holding the book gave her a strange, warm buzzing sensation just below her skin. The book was almost alive in her hands.

She cracked it open, expecting to have to decode some stiff academic table of contents or dig through an index at the back before she'd find anything even remotely related to Peeta.

She never got beyond the title page.

Pasted inside the front cover of the book, was a sepia-toned photograph. It was a very old _carte de vistie_-style picture, scrawled in ink at the bottom: _Helston, 1854._

Heat flashed across her skin. She yanked her black sweater over her head and still felt hot in her tank top. The memory of Peeta's voice sounded hollow in her mind. _I get to live forever,_ he'd said._ You come along every seventeen years. You fall in love with me, and I with you. And it kills you._

Her head throbbed.

_You're my love, Katniss. For me, you're all there is._

She fingered the outline of the picture glued inside the book. Katniss' dad, the aspiring photography guru, would have marveled over how well-perserved the image was, how valauble it must be.

Katniss, on the other hand, was hung up on the people in the image. Because, unless every word out of Peeta's mouth had been true, it made no sense at all.

A young man, with light cropped hair and lighter eyes, posed elegantly in a trim black coat. His raised chin and well-defined jaw and cheekbones made his fine attire look much more distinguished, but it was his lips that gave Katniss such a start. The exact shape of his smile, combined with the look in those eyes . . . it added up to an expression Katniss had seen in every one of her dreams these last few weeks. And, over the last couple of days, in person.

This man was the spitting image of Peeta. The Peeta who had told her that he loved her-and that she had been reincarnated dozens of times. The Peeta who had said so many other things Katniss didn't want to hear that she ran away. The Peeta whom she'd abandoned under the peach trees in the cemetery.

It could have been a remarkable likeness. Some distant relative, the author of the book maybe, who'd funneled each one of his genes straight down the family tree right to Peeta.

Except that the young man in the picture was posed next to a young woman who also looked alarmingly familiar.

Katniss held the book inches from her face and pored over the woman's image. She wore a ruffled black silk ball gown that hugged her body to her waist before billowing out in wide black tiers. Black lace-up wristlets encased her hands, leaving her fingers bare. Her small teeth showed between her lips, which were parted in an easy smile. She had clear skin a few tones darker than the man's. Deep-set eyes bordered by thick eyelashes. A dark flood of hair that fell in thick waves to her waist.

It took a moment for Katniss to remember how to breathe, and even then, she still couldn't teat her strained eyes away from the book. The woman in the photograph?

It was her.

Either Katniss had been right, and her memory of Peeta had come from a forgotten trip to a Savannah mall, where they'd posed for cheesy dress-up shots at Ye Old Photo Booth that she also couldn't remember-or Peeta had been telling the truth.

Katniss and Peeta did know one another.

From an altogether different time.

She could not catch her breath. Her whole life tossed in the rolling sea of her mind, everything came into question-the itchy dark shadows that haunted her, the gruesome death of Thresh, the dreams . . .

She had to find Rue. If anyone could come up with an explanation for such an impossible occurance, it would be Rue. With the inscrutable old book tucked under her arm, Katniss left her room and raced toward the library.

The library was warm and empty, but something about the high ceilings and endless rows of books made Katniss nervous. She walked quickly past the new call desk which still looked sterile and unlived in. She passed the formidable unused card catalog and the endless reference section until she had reached the long tables in the group study section.

Instead of Rue, Katniss found Johanna, playing a game of chess with Finnick. She had her feet up on the table and was wearing a striped conductor's cap. Her hair was tucked under the hat, and Katniss noticed again, for the first time since she'd cut Johanna's hair, the glossy, marbled scar along her neck.

Johanna was fixated on the game. A chocolate cigar bobbed between her lips as she contemplated her next move. Finnick was giving Johanna the hawk eye, tapping one of his pawns with his pinky.

"Checkmate, bitch," Johanna said triumphantly, knocking over Finnick's king, just as Katniss thudded to a stop in front of their table. "Kakakatniss," she sang, looking up. "You've been hiding from me."

"No."

"I've been _hearing_ things about you," Johanna said, causing Finnick to tilt his head attentively. "Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. That means sit down and spill. Right now."

Katniss hugged the book to her chest. She didn't want to sit down. She wanted to scour the library for Rue. She couldn't made small talk with Johanna-especially not in front of Finnick, who was clearing his things from the seat next to him.

"Join us," Finnick said.

Katniss lowered herself reluctantly onto the edge of the seat. She'd just stay a few minutes. It was true that she hadn't seen Johanna in a few days, and under normal circumstances, she would really have missed the girl's bizarre ways.

But these were far from normal circumstances, and Katniss could think of nothing other than that photograph.

"Since I just wiped the chessboard with Finnick's ass, let's play a new game. How about 'who saw an incriminating photo of Katniss the other day'?" Johanna said, crossing her arms on the table.

"What?" Katnis jumped back. She pressed her hand down firmly on the cover of the book, feeling certain that her tense expression was giving everything aways. She should never have brought it here.

"I'll give you three guesses," Johanna said, rolling her eyes. "Glimmer snapped a picture of you ducking into a big black car yesterday after class."

"Oh." Katniss sighed.

"She was going to turn you in to Alma," Johanna continued. "Until I gave her what for. Mmm-hmm." She snapped her fingers. "Now, to show your gratitude, tell me-are they sneaking you away to see an off-campus shrink?" She lowered her voice to a whisper and tapped her fingernails on the table. "Or have you taken a lover?"

Katniss glanced at Finnick, who was giving her a fixed stare.

"Neither," she said. "I just left for a little while to have a talk with Gale. It didn't go exactly-"

"Bam! Pay up Jo," Finnick said, grinning. "You owe me ten bucks."

Katniss' jaw dropped.

Johanna patted her hand. "No big deal, we just made a little wager to keep things interesting. I assumed it was Peeta you'd gone off with. Finnick here picked Gale. You're breaking my bank, Katniss. I don't like it."

"I w_as_ with Peeta," Katniss said, not really knowing why she felt the need to correct them. Didn't they have anything better to do with their lives than sit around wondering what she did on her own time?

"Oh." Finnick sounded disappointed. "The plot thickens."

"Finnick." Katniss turned to him. "I need to ask you something."

"Talk to me." He pulled a notepad and a pen out of his black-and-white pinstriped blazer. He held the pen poised over the paper, like a waiter taking an order. "What do you want? Coffee? Booze? I only get the hard stuff on Fridays. Dirty magazines?"

"Thigars?" Johanna offered, lisping through the chocolate one in her mouth.

"No." Katniss shook her head. "None of that."

"Okay, special order. I left the catalog up in the room." Finnick shrugged. "You can come by later-"

"I don't need you to get me anything. I just want to know-" She swallowed dryly. "You're friends with Peeta, right?"

He shrugged. "I don't hate the guy."

"But do you trust him?" she asked. "I mean, if he told you something that sounded crazy, how likely would you be to believe him?"

Finnick squinted at her, seeming momentarily stumped, but Johanna quickly hopped up on the table, and swung her legs over to Katniss' side. "What exactly are we talking about?"

Katniss stood up. "Never mind." She should never have raised the subject. She grabbed the book from the table. "I've got to go," she said. "I'm sorry."

She pushed her chair in and walked away. Her legs felt heavy and dull, her mind overloaded. A breath of wind lifted the hair on the back of her neck and her head darted in search of the shadows. Nothing. Just a tiny bird's next tucked into the window's narrow open corner. Scanning the library again, Katniss found it hard to believe her eyes. There really was no sign of them, no black tendrils or shruddering grey weather system roiling overhead-but Katniss could feel their distinct closeness, could almost smell their salty sulphur in the air. Where were they, if not haunting her? She'd always thought of them as hers alone. She'd never considered that the shadows might go other places, do other things-torment other people. Did Peeta see them, too?

Rounding the corner toward the computer stations at the back of the library, where she thought she might find Rue, Katniss ran smack into Miss Trinket. Both of them stumbled, and Miss Trinket caught Katniss to steady herself. She was dressed in fashionable jeans and a long white blouse, with a beaded red caridgan tied around her shoulders. Her metallic green glasses hung from a multi-coloured bed chain around her neck. Katniss was surprised at how firm her grip was.

"Excuse me," Katniss mumbled.

"Why, Katniss, what's the matter?" Miss Trinket pressed a plam to Katniss' forehead. The baby powder smell of her hands filled Katniss' nose. "You don't look well."

Katniss swallowed, willing herself not to burst into tears just because the nice librarian was taking pity on her. "I'm _not_ well."

"I knew it," Miss Trinket said. "You missed class today and you weren't at the Social last night. Do you need to see a doctor? If my first-aid kit hadn't been burned in the first, I'd take your temperature right here."

"No, well, I don't know." Katniss held the book out in front of her and contemplated telling Miss Trinket everything, starting from the beginning . . . which was when?

Only, she didn't have to. Miss Trinket took one glance at the book, sighed, and gave Katniss a knowing look. "You finally found it, didn't you? Come on, let's have a talk."

Even the librarian knew more than Katniss did about her life. Lives? She couldn't figure out what any of it meant, or how any of it was possible.

She followed Miss Trinket to a table at the back corner of the study section. She could still see Johanna and Finnick from the corner of her eye, but they seemed at least out of earshot.

"How did you come across this?" Miss Trinket patted Katniss' hand and slipped her glasses on. Her small black pearl eyes twinkled behind the bifocal's frames. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble, dear."

"I don't know. Rue and I had been looking for it. It was stupid. We thought maybe the author was related to Peeta, but we didn't know for sure. Whenever we went to look for it, it seemed like it had just been checked out. Then, when I came home tonight, Rue had left it in my room-"

"So Rueabelle knows about its contents as well?"

"I don't know," Katniss said, shaking her head. She could feel herself rambling, and yet she couldn't make herself shut up. Miss Trinket was like the cool, zany grandmother Katniss never had. Her own grandmother's ideas of a big shopping tripe was going to the grocery store. Besides, it felt good just to talk to someone. "I haven't been able to find her yet, only because I was with Peeta, and usually he acts so weird, but last night he kissed me, and we stayed out until-"

"Excuse me, dear," Miss Trinket said, a little too loudly, "but did you just say Peeta Mellark kissed you?"

Katniss covered her mouth with both her hands. She could not believe she'd just spilled that to Miss Trinket. She must really be losing it. "I'm sorry, that's completely irrelevant. And embarrassing. I don't know why that slipped out." She fanned her cheeks.

Already it was too late. Across the study section, Johanna boomed at Katniss, "Thanks for telling _me_!" Her face looked stunned.

But Miss Trinket snapped Katniss' attention back when she took the book from Katniss' hands. "A kiss between you and Peeta is not only irrelevant, dear, it's usually impossible." She stroked her chin and looked up at the ceiling. "Which means . . . well, it _couldn't_ mean . . ."

Miss Trinket's fingers started flying through the book, tracing down each page at a miraculously rapid pace.

"What do you mean, 'usually'?" Katniss had never felt so left out of her own life.

"Forget the kiss," Miss Trinket waved her hand at Katniss, taking her aback. "That's not the half of it. The kiss doesn't mean anything unless . . ." She muttered under her breath and went back to flipping through the pages.

What did Miss Trinket know? Peeta's kiss meant everything. Katniss watched Miss Trinket's flying fingers dubiously until something on one of the pages caught her eye.

"Go back," Katniss said, laying her hand over Miss Trinket's to stop her.

Miss Trinket leaned slowly away as Katniss turned back the thin, translucent page. There. She pressed a hand to her heart. In the margin was series of drawings sketching in blackest ink. Quickly done, but in an elegant, fine hand. By someone with a certain talent. Katniss ran her fingers over the drawngs, taking them in. The slope of the woman's shoulder, seen from the back, her hair knotted into a low bun. Soft bare knees crossed over each other, leading up to a shadowy waist. A long, thin wrist giving way to an open palm in which a large, full, yellow dandelion rested.

Katniss' fingers started to tremble. A lump rose in her throat. She didn't know why this, out of everything she'd seen and heard today, was beautiful enough-tragic enough-to finally bring her to tears. The shoulder, the knees, the wrist . . . all were her own. And she knew-all of them had been drawn by Peeta's hand.

"Katniss." Miss Trinket looked nervous, inching her chair away from the table. "Are you-are you feeling quite all right?"

"Oh, Peeta," Katniss whispered, desperate to be near him again. She wiped away a tear.

"He's damned, Katniss," Miss Trinket said in a surprisingly cold voice. "You both are."

_Damned_. Peeta had spoken of being damned. That was his word for all of this. But he'd been referring to himself. Not her.

"Damned?" Katniss repeated. Only, she didn't want to hear any more. All she wanted was to find him.

Miss Trinket snapped her fingers in front of Katniss' face. Katniss met her eyes, slowly, languidly, smiling dropily.

"You're still not awake," Miss Trinket murmered. She closed the book with a smack, catching Katniss' attention, and laid her hands down on the table. "Has he told you anything? After the kiss maybe?"

"He told me . . ." Katniss started. "It sounds crazy."

"These things often do."

"He said the two of us . . . we're some kind of star crossed lovers." Katniss closed her eyes, remembering his long catalog of past lives. At first the idea had felt so foreign, but now she was getting used to it, she thought it it might just be the most romantic thing that had every happened in the history of the world. "He talked about all the times we've fallen in love, in Rio, and Jerusalem, Tahiti-"

"That does sound rather crazy," Miss Trinket said. "So, of course, you don't believe him?"

"I didn't at first," Katniss said, thinking back to their heated disagreement under the peach trees. "He started out by bringing up the bible, which my instinct is to tune out-" She bit her tongue. "No offense. I mean, I think your class is really interesting."

"None taken. People often shy away from their religious upbringings around your age. You're nothing new, Katniss."

"Oh." Katniss cracked her knuckles. "But I didn't have a religious upbringing. My parents didn't believe in it, so-"

"Everyone believes in something. Surely you were baptized?"

"Not if you don't count the swimming pool built under the church pews over there," Katniss said timidly, jerking her thumb toward Capitol Cross's gym.

Yeah, she celebrated Christmas, she'd been to church a handful of times, and even when her life made her and everyone around her miserable, she still had faith that there was someone or something up there worth believing in. That had always been enough for her.

Across the room, she heard a loud clatter. She looked up to see that Finnick had fallen out of his chair. The last time she'd glanced at him, he'd been leaning back on two legs, and now it looked like gravity had finally won.

As he stumbled to his feet, Johanna went to help him. She glanced over and offered a hurried wave. "He's okay!" she called cheerily. "Get up!" she whispered loudly to Finnick.

Miss Trinket was sitting very still, with her hands in her lap under the table. She cleared her throat a few times, flipped back to the front cover of the book and ran her fingers over the photograph, then said, "Did he reveal anything more? Do you know who Peeta is?"

Slowly, sitting up very straight in her chair, Katniss asked, "Do you?"

The librarian stiffened. "I study these things. I'm an academic. I don't get tangled up in trivial matters of the heart."

Those were the words she used-but everything from the pulsing vein along her neck, to the almost unnoticeably light sheen of sweat dotting her brow told Katniss that the answer to her question was _yes._

Over their heads, a giant black antique clock struck eleven. The minute hand trembled with effort of snapping into its place, and the whole contraption gonged for so long it interuppted their conversation. Now, each chime made her ache. She'd been away from Peeta for too long.

"Peeta thought . . ." Katniss started to say. "Last night, when we first kissed, he thought I was going to die." Miss Trinket didn't look as surprised as Katniss would have liked her to be. Katniss cracked her knuckles. "That's crazy, isn't it? I'm not going anywhere."

Miss Trinket took off her bifocals and rubbed her tiny eyes. "For now."

"Oh God," Katniss whispered, feeling same wash of fear that made her leave Peeta in the cemetery. But something she knew she had the power to make her either much more or much less afraid. Something she knew already on her own but couldn't believe. Not until she saw his face again.

The book was still open to the photograph. Upside down, Peeta's smile looked worried, like he knew-as he said he always did-what was coming around the next corner. She couldn't imagine what he must be going through right now. To have opened up about the uncanny history they shared-only to have her dismiss him so completely. She had to find him.

She shut the book and tucked it back under her elbow. Then she stood up and pushing in her chair.

"Where are you going?" Miss Trinket asked nervously.

"To find Peeta."

"I'll go with you."

"No." Katniss shook her head, imagining showing up to throw her arms around Peeta with the school librarian in tow. "You don't have to come. Really."

Miss Trinket was all business when she bend down to double knot the laces of her sensible shoes. She stood up and laid her hand on Katniss' shoulder.

"Trust me," she said. "I do. Capitol Cross has a reputation to uphold. You don't think we just let students run around willy-nilly in the night, do you?"

Katniss resisted filling Miss Trinket in on her recent escape outside the school gates. She groaned inwardly. Why not bring the whole student body so everyone could enjoy the drama? Glimmer could take pictures. Gale could pick another fight. Why not start right here, and pick up Johanna and Finnick-who, she realized with a start, had disappeared.

Miss Trinket, book in hand, had already taken off for the front entrance. Katniss had to jog to catch up to her, speeding past the card catalog, the singed Persian carpet at the front desk, and the glass cases full of Civil War relics in the east wing special collections, where she'd seen Peeta sketching the cemetery the very first night she was here.

They stepped outside into the humid night. A cloud passed over the moon and the campus fell into inky blackness. Then, as if a compass had been placed in her hand, Katniss felt guided toward the shadows. She kenw exactly where they were. Not at the library, but not far away, either.

She couldn't see them yet, but she could feel them, which was so much worse. An awful, consuming itch coated her skin, seeping into her bones and blood like acid. Pooling, clotting, making the cemetery-and beyond-reek with their sulfur stink. They were so much bigger now. It seemed like all the air on campus was foul with their wretched stench of decay.

"Where is Peeta?" Miss Trinket asked. Katniss realized that though the librarian might know quite a bit about the past, she seemed oblivious to the shadows. It made Katniss feel terrified and alone, responsible for whatever was about to happen.

"I don't know," she said, feleing as if she couldn't get enough oxygen in the thick, swampy night air. She didn't want to say the words she knew would bring them closer-far too close-to everything that was making her so afraid. But she had to go to Peeta. "I left him in the cemetery."

They hurried across campus, dodging patches of mud left over from the downpour the other day. Only a few lights were on in the dormitory to their right. Through one of the barred windows, Katniss saw a girl she barely knew poring over a book. They were in the same morning block of classes. She was a tough-looking girl with a pierced septum and the tiniest sneeze-but Katniss had never heard her speak. She had no idea if she was miserable or if she enjoyed her life. Katniss wondered at that moment: If she could trade places with this girl-who never had to worry about past lives, or apocalypitic shadows, or the deaths of two innocent boys on her hands-would she do it?

Peeta's face-the way it had been bathed in violet light when he'd carried her home this morning-appeared before her eyes. His gleaming golden hair. His tender, knowing eyes. The way one touch of his lips transported her far away from any darkness. For him, she'd suffer all of this, and more.

If only she knew how much more there was.

She and Miss Trinket jogged forward, past the creaking bleachers framing the commons, then past the soccer field. Miss Trinket really kept in shape. Katniss would have worried about their pace if the woman hadn't been a few steps ahead of her.

Katniss was dragging. Her fear of facing the shadows was like a hurricane-force headwind slowing her down. And yet she pressed on. An overwhelming nausea told her that she'd barely glimpsed what the dark things could accomplish.

At the cemetery gates, they stopped. Katniss was trembling, hugging herself in a failed attempt to hide it. A girl was standing with her back to them, gazing into the graveyard below.

"Rue!" Katniss called, so glad to see her friend.

When Rue turned to them, her face was ashen. She wore a black windbreaker, despite the heat. She was trembling just as much as Katniss was.

Katniss gasped. "What happened?"

"I was coming to look for you," Rue said, "and then a bunch of the other kids ran this way. They went down there." She pointed toward the gates. "But I c-couldn't."

"What is it?" Katniss asked. "What's down there?"

But even as she asked, she knew one thing that was down there, one thing that Rue would never be able to see. The curdling black shadow was coaxing Katniss toward it. Katniss alone.

Rue was blinking rapidly. She looked terrified. "Dunno," she said finally. "At first I thought fireworks. But nothing ever made it up to the sky." She shuddered. "Something bad's about to happen. I don't know what."

Katniss breathed in and coughed on a deep whiff of sulfur. "How, Rue? How do you know?"

Rue's arm shook as she pointed into the deep bowl in the middle of the cemetery. "See that?" she said. "Something's flickering down there."

_**A/N: Okay, I'll admit, another reason for updating twice was to leave you guys with this cliffhanger, sorry ^_^**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	19. The Buried War

_**Disclaimer: All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins**_

**Chapter Eighteen**

**The buried War**

Katniss took one look at the shuddering light at the base of the cemetery and started racing toward it. She hurtled down past the broken headstones, leaving Rue and Miss Trinket far behind. She didn't care that the sharp, twisting limbs of the live oak trees scratched her arms and face as she ran, or that clumps of thick-rooted weeds tripped up her feet.

She had to get down there.

The waning silver of the moon offered little light, but there was another source-coming from the bottom of the cemetery. Her destination. It looked like a monstrous, cloud-ridden lightening storm. Only it was happening on the ground.

The shadows had been warning her, she realized, for days. Now their dark show had turned into something even Rue could see. And the other students who'd run ahead must have noticed it, too. Katniss didn't know what it could possibly mean. Only that if Peeta was down there with that sinister flickering . . . it was all her fault.

Her lungs burned, but she was driven forward by the image of him standing under the peach trees. She wouldn't stop until she found him-because she'd been coming to find him anyway, to shove the book under his nose and cry out that she believed him, that part of her had believed him all along, but she'd been too scared to accept their unfathomable history. She would tell him that she wasn't going to let fear drive her away, not this time, not anymore. Because she knew something, understood something that had taken her far too long to piece together. Something wild and strange and less believable. She knew who-no, _what_ Peeta was. Part of her had come to this realization on her own-that she might have lived before and loved him before. Only, she hadn't understood what it meant, what it all added up to-the pull she felt toward him, her dreams-until now.

But none of that mattered if she couldn't get down there in timne to find some way to fend off the shadows. None of that mattered if they got to Peeta before she could. She tore down the steep tiers of graves, but the basin at the center of the cemetery was still so far away.

Behind her, a thumping of footsteps. Then a shrill voice.

"Rueabelle!" It was Miss Trinket. She was gaining on Katniss, calling back over her shoulder, where Katniss could see Rue carefully working her way over a fallen tombstone. "You're slower than Christmas coming!"

"No!" Katniss yelled. "Rue, Miss Trinket, don't come down here!" She wouldn't be responsible for putting anyone else in the shadow's path.

Miss Trinket froze on a toppled white tombstone and stared up at the sky like she hadn't heard Katniss at all. She raised her thin arms up in the air, as if to shield herself. Katniss squinted into the night and sucked in her breath. Something was moving toward them, blowing in with the chill wind.

At first she thought it was the shadows, but this was something different and scarier, like a jagged, irregular veil full of dark pockets, letting flecks of sky filter through. This shadow was made of a million tiny black pieces. A rioting, fluttering storm of darkness stretching out in all directions.

"Locusts?" Rue cried.

Katniss shuddered. The thick swarm was still at a distance, but its deep percussion grew louder with every passing second. Like the beating of a thousand birds' wings. Like a hostile sweeping darkness scouring the earth. It was coming. It was going to lash out at her, maybe at all of them, tonight.

"This is not good!" Miss Trinket ranted at the sky. "There's supposed to be an order to things!"

Rue came to a panting stop next to Katniss and the two of them exchanged a bewildered look. Sweat beaded on Rue's upper lip. "She's losing it," Rue whispered, jerking her thumb at Miss Trinket.

"No." Katniss shook her head. "She knows things. And if Miss Trinket's scared, you shouldn't be here, Rue."

"Me?" Rue asked, bewildered, probably because ever since the first day of school, she had been the one guiding Katniss. "I don't think _either_ of us should be here."

Katniss' chest stung with a pain similar to what she'd felt when she had said goodbye to Madge. She looked away from Rue. There was a split between them now, a deep division cutting them apart, because of Katniss' past. She hated to own up to it, to call Rue's attention to it too, but she knew it would be better, safer, if they parted ways.

"I have to stay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I have to find Peeta. You should go back to the dorm, Rue. Please."

"But you and me," Rue said hoarsely. "We were the only ones-"

Before Katniss could hear the end of the sentence, she took off toward the cemetery's center. Toward the mausoleum where she'd seen Peeta brooding on the evening of Parents' Day. She bounded over the last of the tombstones, then skidded down a slope of dank, rotting mulch until the ground finally evened out. She came to a stop in front of the giant oak tree in the basin of the cemetery's center.

Hot and frustrated and terrified all at once, she leaned against the tree trunk.

Then, through the branches of the tree, she saw him.

Peeta.

She let out all the air in her lungs and felt weak in the knees. One look at his distanct, dark profile, so beautiful and majestic, told her that everything Peeta had hinted at-even the one big thing she'd figured out on her own-everything was true.

He was standing atop the mausoleum, arms crossed and looking up where the rolling cloud of locusts had just passed overhead. The thin moonlight threw his shadow in a crescent of darkness that dipped off the crypt's wide, flat roof. She ran toward him, weaving through the dangling Spanish moss and the tilted old statues.

"Katniss!" He spied her as she neared the base of the mausoleum. "What are you doing here?" He showed now happiness to see her-more like shock and horror.

_It's my fault_, she wanted to cry as she approached the base of the mausoleum. And _I believe your story. Forgive me for ever leaving you. I never will again._ There was one more thing she wanted to tell him. But he was far above her, and the shadows' horrible din was too loud, and the air was too soupy to try to make him hear her from where she stood below him.

The tomb was sold marble. But there was a big chip in one of the bas-relief sculptures of a peacock, and Katniss used it as a toehold. The usually cool stone was warm to the touch. Her sweaty palms slipped a few times as she strained to reach the top. To reach Peeta, who had to forgive her.

She'd only scaled a few feet of the wall when someone tapped her shoulder. She spun around and gasped whens he saw it was Peeta, and lost her grip. He caught her, his arms circling her waist, before she could slide to the ground. But he'd just been a full story overhead a second earlier.

She buried her face in his shoulder. And while the truth still scared her, being in his arms made her feel like the sea finding its shore, like a traveler returning after a long, hard, distant trip finally returning home.

"You picked a fine time to come back," he said. He smiled, but his smile was weighed down with worry. His eyes kept looking beyond her, into the sky.

"You see it, too?" she asked.

Peeta just looked at her, unable to respond. His lip quivered.

"Of course you do," she whispered, because everything was coming together. The shadows, his story, their past. A choking cry welled up inside her. "How can you love me?" she sobbed. "How can you even stand me?"

He took her face in his hand. "What are you talking about? How can you say that?"

Her heart burned from racing so fast.

"Because . . ." She swallowed. "You're an angel."

His arms went slack. "What did you say?"

"You're an angel, Peeta, I know it," she said, feeling floodgates open within her. "Don't tell me I'm crazy. I have dreams about you, dreams that are too real to forget, dreams that make me love you before you ever even said one nice thing to me." Peeta's eyes didn't change at all. "Dreams where you have wings and you hold me up in a sky I don't recognize, and yet I know I've been there, just like that, in your arms a thousand times before." She touched her forehead to his. "It explains so much-how graceful you are when you move, and the book your ancestor wrote. Why no one came to visit you on Parents' Day. The way your body seems to flow when you swim. And why, when you kiss me, I feel like I've gone to Heaven." She stopped to catch her breath. "And why you can live forever. The only thing that doesn't explain is what on earth you're doing with me. Because I'm just . . . me." She looked up at the sky again, feeling the black spell of the shadows. "And I'm guilty of so much."

The colour was gone from his face. And Katniss could draw only one conclusion. "You don't understand either."

"I don't understand what you're still doing here."

She blinked and nodded miserably, then began to turn away.

"No!" He pulled her back. "Don't leave. It's just that you've never-we're never . . . gotten this far." He closed his eyes. "Will you say it again?" he asked, almost shyly. "Will you tell me . . . what I am?"

"You're an angel," she repeated slowly, surprised to see Peeta close his eyes and moan in pleasure, almost as if they were kissing. "I'm in love with an angel." Now she was the one who wanted to moan. She tilted her head. "But in my dreams, your wings-"

A hot, howling wind swept sideways over them, practically swatting Katniss out of Peeta's arms. He shielded her body with his. The cloud of shadow-locusts had settled in the canopy of a tree beyond the cemetery and had been making sizzling noises in the branches. Now they rose up in one great mass.

"Oh God," Katniss whispered. "I have to do something. I have to stop it-"

"Katniss." Peeta stroked her cheek. "Look at me. You have done nothing wrong. And there's nothing you can do about"-he pointed-"that." He shook his head. "Why would you ever think you were guilty?"

"Because," she said, "my whole life, I've been seeing these shadows-"

"I should have done something when I realized that, last week at the lake. It's the first lifetime when you've seen them-and it scared me."

"How can you know it's not my fault?" she asked, thinking of Blight and of Thresh. The shadows always came to her before something awful happened.

He kissed her hair. "The shadows you see are called Announcers. They look bad, but they can't hurt you. All they do is scope out a situation and report back to someone else. Gossips. The demonic version of a clique of high school girls."

"But what about those?" She pointed at the trees that lined the perimeter of the cemetery. Their branches were waving, weighed down by the thick, oozing blackness.

Peeta looked out with a calm stare. "Those are the shadows the Announcers have summoned. To battle."

Katniss' arms and legs went cold with fear. "What . . . um . . . what kind of battle is that?"

"The big one," he said simply, raising his chin. "But they're just showing off right now. We still have time."

Behind them a tiny cough made Katniss jump. Peeta bowed in greeting to Miss Trinket, who was standing in the shadow of the mausoleum. Her hair had come loose from its pins and looked wild and unruly, like her eyes. Then someone else stepped forward from behind Miss Trinket. Rue. Her face was still red, and her hairline was damp with sweat. She shrugged at Katniss as if to say _I don't know what the heck is going on, but I couldn't just abandon you._ Despite herself, Katniss smiled.

Miss Trinket stepped forward and raised the book. "Our Katniss has been doing her research."

Peeta rubbed his jaw. "You've been reading that old thing? Never should have written it." He sounded almost bashful-but Katniss slid one more piece of their puzzle into place.

"You wrote that," she said. "And sketched in the margins. And pasted in that photograph of us."

"You found the photograph," Peeta said, smiling, holding her closer as if the mention of the picture brought back a rush of memories.

"Of course. It took me a while to understand, but when I saw how happy we were, something opened up inside me. And I knew."

She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled his head to hers, not even caring that Miss Trinket and Rue were right there. When Peeta's lips touched hers, the whole dark, horrid cemetery disappeared-the worn graves too, and the pockets of shadows rooting around in the trees; even the moon and stars above.

The first time she'd seen the Helston picture, it had scared her. The idea of all those past versions of herself scared her-it was too much to take in. But now, in Peeta's arms, she could feel all of them somehow working together, a vast consortium of Katniss' who'd loved the same Peeta over and over and over again. So much love-it spilled out of her heart and her soul, pouring off her body and filling the space between them.

And she at last heard what he had said when they were looking at the shadows: that she had done nothing wrong. That there was no reason to feel guilty. Could it be true? Was she innocent of Thresh's death, of Blight's, as she'd believed? The moment she asked herself, she knew that Peeta had told her the truth. And she felt like she was waking from a long bad dream. She no longer felt like the girl with the shorn hair and the baggy black clothes, no longer the eternal screw-up, afraid of the putrid cemetery, and stuck in reform school for good reason.

"Peeta," she said, gently pushing his shoulders back so she could look at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that you were an angel? Why all that talk about being damned?"

Peeta eyed her nervously.

"I'm not mad." She reassured him. "Only wondering."

"I couldn't tell you," he said. "It's all wrapped up together. Until now, I didn't even know that you could discover it on your own. If I told you too quickly or at the wrong time, you'd be gone again and I would have to wait. I've already had to wait so long."

"How long?" Katniss asked.

"Not so long that I've forgotten that you're worth everything. Every sacrifice. Every pain." Peeta closed his eyes for a moment. Then he looked over at Rue and Miss Trinket.

Rue was seated with her back against a mossy black tombstone. Her knees were curled up to her chin and she was chewing avidly on her fingernails. Miss Trinket had her hands on her hips. She looked like she had something to say.

Peeta stepped back and Katniss felt a rush of cool air waft between them. "I'm still afraid that any minute you could-"

"Peeta-" Miss Trinket called reprovingly.

He waved her off. "Our being together, it's not as simple as you're going to want it to be."

"Of course not," Katniss said. "I mean, you're an angel, but now that I know it-"

"Katniss Everdeen." This time it was Katniss who was the object of Miss Trinket's anger. "What he has to tell you, you do not want to know," she warned. "And Peeta. You have no right. It will kill her-"

Katniss shook her head, confused by Miss Trinket's request. "I think I could survive a little truth."

"It is not a _little_ truth," Miss Trinket said, stepping forward to position herself between them. "And you will not survive it. As you have not survived it in the thousands of years since the Fall."

"Peeta, what is she talking about?" Katniss reached around Miss Trinket for his wrist, but the librarian fended her off. "I can handle it," Katniss said, feeling a dry pit of nerves in her stomach. "I don't want any more secrets. I love him."

It was the first time she had ever said the words aloud to anyone. Her only regret was that she'd directed the most important three words she knew at Miss Trinket instead of Peeta. She turned to him. His eyes were shining. "I do," she said. "I love you."

_Clap._

_Clap. Clap._

_Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap._

Slow, loud applause sounded from behind them in the trees. Peeta broke away and turned toward the woods, his posture stiffening, as Katniss felt the old fear flood in, felt herself rooted by terror about what he was seeing the shadows, frightenend of what he saw before she did.

"Oh, bravo. Bravo! Really, I am touched to my very soul-and not much touches me there these days, sad to say."

Gale stepped into the clearing. His eyes were rimmed with a thick, shimmering gold shadow, and it shone on his face in the moonlight, making him look like a wildcat.

"That is _so_ incredibly sweet," he said. "And he just loves you, too-don't you, lover boy? Don't you Peeta?"

"Gale," Peeta warned. "Do not do this."

"Do what?" Gale asked, raising his left arm in the air. He snapped his fingers once and a small flame, the size of a lit match, ignited in the air over his hand. "You mean that?"

The echo of his finger snap seemed to linger, to reflect off the tombs in the cemetery, to grow louder and multiply as it bounced back and forth. At first Katniss thought the sound was more applause, as if a demonic auditorium full of darkness were clapping derisively at Katniss and Peeta's love, the way Gale had done. But then she remembered the thundering wingbeats she'd heard earlier. She held her breath as the sound took the form of those thousand bits of flitting darkness. The swarm of locust-shaped shadows that had vanished into the forest reared up overhead once again.

Their drumming was so loud, Katniss had to cover her ears. On the ground, Rue was crouched with her head between her knees. But Peeta and Miss Trinket stoically watched the sky as the cacophony grew and changed. It began to sound more like very loud sprinklers going off . . . like the hiss of a thousand snakes.

"Or this?" Gale asked, shrugging as the hideous, formless darkness settled around him.

The insects each began to grow and unfold, becoming larger than any insect could ever be, dripping like glue and growing into black segmented bodies. Then, as if they were learning how to use their shadow limbs as they formed, they slowly hoisted themselves onto their numerous legs and came forward, like mantises grown to human height.

Gale welcome them as they swarmed around him. Soon they had formed a massive army of embodied night behind Gale.

"I'm sorry," he said, smacking his forehead with his palm. "Did you tell me _not_ to do that?"

"Peeta," Katniss whispered. "What's happening?"

"Why did you call an end to the truce?" he called to Gale.

"Oh. Well. You know what they say about desperate times." Gale sneered. "And watching you plaster her body with those perfect angelic kisses of yours . . . it made me feel _so_ desperate."

"Shut up Gale!" Katniss shouted, hating that she'd ever let him touch her.

"In good time." Gale's eyes rolled over to her. "Oh yes, we're going to brawl, baby. Over you. Again." He stroked his chin and narrowed his grey eyes. "Bigger this time, I think. A few more casualites. Deal with it."

Peeta gathered Katniss in his arms. "Tell me why, Gale. You owe me that much."

"You _know_ why," Gale boomed, pointing at Katniss. "_She's_ still here. Won't be for long, though."

He put his hands on his hips, and a series of dense black shadows slithered up along his body, encircling his arms like bracelets. He petted the largest one's head dotingly.

"And this time, when your love blows into that tragic little puff of ash, it's going to be _for good._ See, everything's different this time."

Gale beamed, and Katniss thought she felt Peeta quake for just a second.

"Oh except one thing is the same-and I do have a soft spot for your predictability, Mellark." Gale took a step forward. His shadow-legion inched up accordingly, making Katniss and Peeta, and Rue and Miss Trinket, inch back. "You're afraid," he said pointing dramatically at Peeta. "And I'm not."

"That's because you have nothing to lose," Peeta said. "I would never trade places with you."

"Hmmm," Gale said, tapping his chin. "We'll see about that." He looked around, grinning. "Must I spell it out for you? Yes. I hear you may have something _bigger_ to lose this time. Something that's going to make annihilating her so much more enjoyable."

"What are you talking about?" Peeta asked.

To Katniss' left, Miss Trinket opened her mouth and let a out a howling strong of feral noises. She waved her hands wildly over her head in a jerking, dancelike motion, her eyes almost transparent, as if she were in some sort of trance. Her lips twitched, and Katniss realized with a shock that she was speaking in tongues.

Peeta took Miss Trinket's arm and shook her. "No, you are absolutely right: It doesn't make sense," he whispered, and Katniss realized he could understand Miss Trinket's weird language.

"You know what she's saying?" Katniss asked.

"Allow us to translate," a familiar voice shouted from the roof of the mausoleum. Johanna. Next to her was Delly. Both seemed to be lit from behind and were shrouded in a strange silver glow. They hopped down from the crypt, landing next to Katniss without a sound.

"Gale's right, Peeta," Delly said quickly. "Something's different this time . . . something about Katniss. The cycle could be broken-and not the way we want it to. I mean . . . it could end."

"Someone tell me what you're talking about," Katniss said, butting in. "What's different? Broken how? What's at stake with this whole battle, anyway?"

Peeta, Johanna, and Delly all stared at her for a moment, as if trying to place her, as if they knew her from somewhere but she'd changed so completely in an instant that they no longer recognized her.

Finally, Johanna spoke up. "At stake?" She rubbed the scar on her neck. "If they win-it's Hell on earth. The end of the world as anyone knows it."

The black shapes screeched around Gale, wrestling with and chewing on each other, in some sort of sick devilish warm-up.

"And if we win?" Katniss struggled to get out the words.

Delly swallowed, then said gravely, "We don't know yet."

Suddenly Peeta stumbled back, away from Katniss, and pointed at her. "Sh-she hasn't been . . ." he stammered, covering his mouth. "The kiss," he said finally, stepping forward to grip Katniss' arm. "The book. That's why you can-"

"Get to part B, Peeta," Johanna prompted. "Think fast. Patience is a virtue, and you know how Gale feels about those."

Peeta squeezed Katniss' hand. "You have to go. You have to get out of here."

"What? Why?"

She looked at Johanna and Delly for help, then shrank away from them as a host of silver twinkles began to flow over the roof of the mausoleum. Like an endless stream of fireflies released from an enormous mason jar. They rained down on Johanna and Delly, making their eyes shine. Katniss was reminded of fireworks-or the Fourth of July, when the light had been just right and she'd looked right into her mother's irises and seen the fireworks' reflection, a booming silvery flash of light, as if her mother's eyes were a mirror.

Only, these twinkles didn't peter into smoke like fireworks. When they hit the cemetery grass, they bloomed into graceful, shimmery iridescent being. They weren't exactly human shapes, but they were vaugey recognizable. Gorgeous, glowing rays of light. Creatures so ravishing that Katniss knew instantly they were an army of angelic power, equal in size and numbers to the great black force behind Gale. This was what true beauty and goodness looked like-a spectral, luminescent gathering of beings so pure it hurt to look directly at them, like the most glorious eclipse, or maybe Heaven itself. She should have been comforted, standing on the side that _had_ to prevail in this fight. But she was starting to feel sick.

Peeta pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. "She's feverish."

Delly patted Katniss on the arm and beamed. "It's okay, sugar," she said, guiding Peeta's hand away. Her drawl was somehow reassuring. "We'll take it from here. But you have to go." She glanced over her shoulder at the horde of blackness behind Gale. "Now."

Peeta pulled Katniss to him for one last embrace.

"I'll take her," Miss Trinket called loudly. The book was still tucked under her arm. "I know a safe place."

"Go," Peeta said. "I'll find you as soon as I can. Just promise me you'll run from here, and that you won't look back."

Katniss had so many questions. "I don't want to leave you."

Johanna stepped between them and gave Katniss a final rough shove toward the gates. "Sorry, Katniss," she said. "Time to leave this fight to us. We're kind of professionals."

Katniss felt Rue's hand slide into hers, and soon they were running. Pounding up toward the gates of the cemetery as quickly as she'd bounded down on her way to find Peeta. Back up the slippery mulch slide. Back through the jagged live oak branches and ramshackle stacks of broken headstones. They hurdled the stones and jogged up the slope, making for the distant iron work arch of the gates. Hot wind blew her hair, and the swampy air still lay thick in her lungs. She couldn't find the moon to guide them, and the light in the cemetery's center was gone now. She didn't understand what was happening. At all. And she didn't like it at all that everyone else did.

A bolt of darkness struck the ground in front of her, cracking the earth and opening up in a jagged gorge. Katniss and Rue skidded to a halt just in time. The gash was as wide as Katniss was tall, as deep as . . . well, she couldn't see down to the dark bottom. The edges of it sizzled and foamed.

Rue gasped. "Katniss, I'm scared."

"Follow me, girls," Miss Trinket called. She led them to the right, winding among the dark, graves while blast after blast rang out behind them. "Just the sounds of battle," she huffed, like some sort of strange tour guide. "That will go on for some while, I fear."

Katniss winced at every crash, bu she kept pushing forward until her calves were burning, until behind her, Rue let out a wail. Katniss turned and saw her friend stumble, her eyes rolling behind her head.

"Rue!" Katniss screamed, reaching out to catch her just before she fell. Tenderly, Katniss lowered her to the ground and rolled her over. She almost wished she hadn't. Rue's shoulder had been sliced through by something black and jagged. It had bit into her skin, leaving a charred line of flesh that smelled like burning meat.

"Is it bad?" Rue whispered hoaresly. She blinked rapidly, clearing frustrated at being unable to life her head up to see herself.

"No," Katniss lied, shaking her head. "Just a cut." She gulped, trying to swallow the nausea rising in her as she tugged Rue's frayed black sleeve together. "Am I hurting you?"

"I don't know," Rue wheezed. "I can't feel anything."

"Girls, what _is_ the holdup?" Miss Trinket had doubled back.

Katniss looked up at Miss Trinket, willing her not to say how bad Rue's injury looked.

She didn't. She gave Katniss a swift nod, then stretched her arms beneath Rue and lifted her up like a parent carrying a child to bed. "I've got you," she said. "It won't be long now."

"Hey." Katniss followed Miss Trinket, who carried Rue's weight like she was a bag of feathers. "How did you-"

"No questions, not until we're far away from all of this," Miss Trinket said.

_Far away_. Katniss wanted nothing less than to be far away from Peeta. And then, after they'd crossed the threshold of the cemetery and were standing on the flat ground of the school commons, she couldn't help herself. She looked back. And instantly understood why Peeta had told her not to.

A twisting silver-gold pillar of fire burst forth from the dark cemetery itself, a braid of light rising from hundreds of feet up into the air and boiling away the clouds. The black shadow picked up at the light, occasionally tearing tendrils free and carrying them off, shrieking, into the night. As the coiling strands shifted, now more silver, now more gold, a single chord of sound began to fill the air, full and unending, loud as a mighty waterfall. Low notes thundered in the night. High notes chimed to fill the space around them. It was the grandest, most perfectly balanced celestial harmony ever heard on earth. It was beautiful, and horrifying, and everything stank of sulfur.

Everyone for miles around must have believed the world was ending. Katniss didn't know what to think. Her heart seized up.

Peeta had told her not to look back because he knew the sight of it would make her want to go back to him.

"Oh no, you don't," Miss Trinket said, grabbing Katniss by the scruff of the neck and dragging her across campus. When they reached the gymnasium, Katniss realized that Miss Trinket had been carrying Rue the whole time, using only one arm.

"What _are_ you?" Katniss asked as Miss Trinket pushed her through the double doors.

The librarian pulled a long key from the pocket of her beaded red cardigan and slipped it into part of the brick wall at the front of the foyer that didn't even look like a door. An entrance to a long stairway opened silently, and Miss Trinket gestured for Katniss to precede her up the stairs.

Rue's eyes closed. She was either unconcious or in too much pain to keep them open. Either way, she was staying remarkably quiet.

"Where are we going?" Katniss asked. "We need to get out of here. Where's your car?" She didn't want to scare Rue, but they needed to get a doctor. Fast.

"Quiet, if you know what's good for you." Miss Trinket glanced at Rue's wound and sighed. "We're going to the only chamber in this place that hasn't been desecrated with athletic equipment. Where we can be alone."

By then, Rue had begun groaning in Miss Trinket's arms. The blood from her wound was a thick, dark stream on the marble floor.

Katniss eyed the steep staircase. She couldn't even see its end. "I think for Rue's sake we should stay down here. We're going to need to get help pretty soon."

Miss Trinket sighed and laid Rue down on the stone, quickly popping back up to lock the front door they'd just came through. Katniss fell to her knees in front of Rue. Her friend looked so small and fragile. In the dim light coming from the delicate wrought iron chandelier overhead, Katniss could at last see how badly she'd been injured.

Rue was the only friend Katniss had at Capitol Cross she could really relate to, the only one she wasn't intimidated by. After Katniss had seen what Johanna and Delly and Gale were capable of, few things made sense. But on did: Rue was the only kid at Capitol Croos like her.

Except Rue was stronger than Katniss. Smarter and happier and more easygoing. She was the reason Katniss had made it through these first few weeks of reform school at all. Without Rue, who knew where Katniss would be?

"Oh, Rue." Katniss sighed "You're going to be okay. We're going to get you all fixed up."

Rue murmered something incomprehensible, which made Katniss nervous. Katniss turned back to Miss Trinket, who was closing all the windows in the foyer one by one.

"She's fading fast," Katniss said. "We _need_ to call a doctor."

"Yes, yes," Miss Trinket said, but something in her tone sounded preoccupied. She seemed consumed with closing up the building, as if the shadows from the cemetery were on their way right now.

"Katniss?" Rue whispered. "I'm scared."

"Don't be." Katniss squeezed her hand. "You're so brave. This whole time you've been such a pillar of strength."

"Give me a break," Miss Trinket said from behind her, in a rough voice Katniss had never heard her use. "She's a pillar of salt."

"What?" Katniss asked, confused. "What does that mean?"

Miss Trinket's eyes had narrowed into thin black slits. Her face pinched into wrinkles and she bitterly shook her head. Then, very slowly, from the sleeve of her caridgan, she produced a long, silver dagger. "The girl is only slowing us down."

Katniss' eyes widened as she watched Miss Trinket raise the dagger over her head. Dazed, Rue didn't register what was happening, but Katniss certainly did.

"No!" she screamed, reaching up to stop Miss Trinket's arm, to turn away the dagger. But Miss Trinket knew what she was doing and deftly blocked Katniss' arm, pushing her aisde with her free hand as she dragged the blade across Rue's throat.

Rue grunted and coughed, her breath turning ragged. Her eyes rolled backward in their sockets the way they did when she was thinking. Except she wasn't thinking, she was dying. At last her eyes met Katniss'.

Then they slowly dulled and Rue's breathing quieted.

"Messy but neccessary," Miss Trinket said, wiping the blade clean on Rue's black sweater.

Katniss stumbled backward, covering her mouth, unable to scream and unable to look at the woman she'd thought was on her side. Suddenly, she realized why Miss Trinket had bolted all the doors and windows in the foyer. It wasn't to keep anyone out.

It was to keep her in.

_**A/N: So, I know some of you had your suspicions about Miss Trinket. Is this what you expected was going to happen? Poor Rue :(**_

_**Please R&R with your thoughts!**_


	20. Out of Sight

_**A/N: Hey guys, here's chapter nineteen! ^_^**_

_**I made a new cover photo for the story (I've gotten into a craze on pizap of doing that). It's kind of amatuer but I quite like it. If you're wondering the blonde girl in the top left corner is suppored to be Delly. Effie is there as well but due to size restrictions she's cut out. You can just about see her at the side though. I'd love to hear what you think of it! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Out of Sight**

At the top of the stairs was a flat brick wall. Dead ends of any kind had always made Katniss claustrophobic, and this one was even worse because of the knife poised at her throat. She dared a glance back at the steep flight they'd climbed. From here, it loked like a very long and painful fall.

Miss Trinket was speaking in tongues again, muttering under her breath as skillfully as she eased open another hidden door. She shoved Katniss into a tiny chapel and locked the door behind them. It was freezing inside and smelled overwhemlingly of chalky dust. Katniss struggled to breathe, to swallow the bilious saliva in her mouth.

Rue could not be dead. That whole thing could not just have happened. Miss Trinket _could not be that evil._ Peeta had said to trust Miss Trinket. He'd said to go with her until he could come for Katniss . . .

Miss Trinket paid Katniss no attention, merely made her way around the room, lighting candle after candle, genuflecting at each one, and continuing to chant in a language Katniss didn't know. The twinkling votives revealed that the chapel was clean and well maintained, which meant it must not have been too long since someone else had been up there. But surely Miss Trinket was the only one who would have a key to the hidden door? Who else would even know this place existed?

The red tile ceiling was sloping and uneven. Broad, faded tapestries cloaked the walls, depicting images of creepy half-man, half-fish creatures battling on a roiling sea. There was a small white altar up at the front, and a few rows of simple wooden pews ranked along the grey stone floor. Katniss looked around frantically for an exit but there were no other doors or windows.

Katniss' legs were shaking with fury and fear. She was in agony over Rue, betrayed and lying alone at the foot of the stairs.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, backing up against the arched chapel doors. "I trusted you."

"That's your own fault dear," Miss Trinket said, roughly twisting Katniss' arm. Then the dagger was back at her neck and she was being marched up at the chapel's aisle. "Trust is a careless pursuit at best. At worst, it's a good way to get yourself killed."

Miss Trinket pushed Katniss toward the altar. "Now be a dear and lie down, would you?"

Because the knife was still too close to her throat, Katniss did as she was told. She felt a spot of coolness on her neck and reached up to touch it. When she took her fingers away, the tips were red with dots of blood where the knife had pricked her. Miss Trinket slapped her hand down.

"You think that's bad, you should see what you're missing outside," she said, making Katniss shudder. Peeta was out there.

The altar was a square white platform, a single slab of stone no bigger than Katniss herself. She felt cold and desperate exposed atop it, imagining the pews filled up with shadowy churchgoers, waiting for her torture to take place.

Looking straight up, she saw that there was a window in this cavernous chapel, a large stained-glass rosette like a skylight in the ceiling. It had a complicated geometric floral pattern, with red and purple roses against a navy blue background. It would have been a lot prettier to Katniss if it had offered a view outside.

"Let's see, where did I . . . ah yes!" Miss Trinket reached below the altar and returned with a thick length of rope. "Don't wiggle, now," she said, waving the knife in Katniss' direction. Then she set about securing Katniss to four holes drilled into the altar's surface. First each ankle, then each wrist. Katniss tried not to writhe as she was tied down like some sort of sacrifice. "Perfect," Miss Trinket said, giving her intricate knots a firm tug.

"You planned all this," Katniss realized, aghast.

Miss Trinket grinned as sweetly as she had the very first day Katniss had stumbled into the library. "I would say it's nothing personal, Katniss, but actually, it is," she cackled. "I've been waiting a long time for this moment alone with you."

"Why?" Katniss asked. "What do you want from me?"

"You, I just want eliminated," Miss Trinket said. "It's _Peeta_ I want freed up."

She left Katniss on the altar and moved to a lectern near Katniss' feet. She hoisted the Mellark book onto the lectern and began rapidly flipping through the pages. Katniss thought back to the moment she'd opened it and seen her face next to Peeta's for the first time. How it had finally hit her that he was an angel. She'd known next to nothing then, and yet she'd felt certain that the photograph meant that she and Peeta could be together.

Not that felt impossible.

"You're just sitting there swooning over him, aren't you?" Miss Trinket asked. She smacked the book closed and banged her fist on the cover. "This is precisely the problem."

"What's wrong with you?" Katniss strained against the ropes binding her to the altar. "What do you care about what Peeta and I feel about each other, or who either one of us dates in the first place?" This psycho had nothing to do with them.

"I should like to have a word with whoever thought putting the fate of all of our eternal souls in the hands of one lovesick pair of infants was so brillant an idea." She raised a shaking fist in the air. "They want the balance to be tipped? _I'll_ show them tipping the balance." The point of her dagger gleamed in the candlelight.

Katniss drew her eyes away from the blade. "You're crazy."

"If wanting to bring to a final head the longest, greatest battle ever fought means I'm crazy"-Miss Trinket's tone implied that Katniss was dense for not knowing all this already-"so be it."

The idea that Miss Trinket could have any say in ending the battle didn't add up in Katniss' mind. Peeta was fighting the battle outside. What was going on in here couldn't compare to that. Regardless of whether Miss Trinket had crossed over to the other side.

"They said it would be Hell on earth," Katniss whispered. "The end of days."

Miss Trinket started laughing. "It would seem that way to you now. Is it such a surprise that I'm one of the good guys, Katniss?"

"If you're on the good side," Katniss spat, "it doesn't sound like a war worth fighting."

Miss Trinket smiled, as if she'd expected Katniss to say those very words. "Your death may be just the push Peeta needs. A little push in the right direction."

Katniss squirmed on the altar. "You-you wouldn't hurt me."

Miss Trinket crossed back toward her, and brought her face close. The artifical baby-powder old lady scent filled Katniss' nose, making her gag. "Of course I would," she said, bobbing the wild silver frizz of her unkempt hair. "You're the human equivalent of a migraine."

"But I'll just come back. Peeta told me." Katniss gulped. _In seventeen years._

"Oh, no you won't. Not this time," Miss Trinket said. "The first day you walked into my library, I saw something in your eyes, but I couldn't put my finger on it." She smiled down at Katniss. "I've met you many times before, Katniss, and most of the time, you're a downright bore."

Katniss stiffened, feeling exposed, as if she were naked on this altar. It was one thing for Peeta to have encountered her in other lives-but had others known her, too?

"This time," Miss Trinket continued, "you had something of an edge. A genuine spark. But it wasn't until tonight, that beautiful slipup about those agnostic parents of yours."

"What about my parents?" Katniss hissed.

"Well, my dear, the reason you come back again and again is because all the other times you've been born, you were ushered in religious belief. This time, when your parents opted out baptizing you, they effectively left your little soul up for grabs." She shrugged dramatically. "No ritual to welcome you into religion equals no reincarnation for Kat. A small but esstential loophole in your cycle."

Could this have been what Johanna and Delly had been hinting at in the cemetery? Katniss' head began to throb. A veil of black spots took over her vision, and she heard a ringing in her ears. She blinked slowly, feeling even that tiny brush of her eyelids closing like a blast through her whole head. She was almost glad she was already lying down. Otherwise she might have fainted.

If this was really the end . . . well, it _couldn't_ be.

Miss Trinket leaned close to Katniss' face, sending spit flying with her words. "When you die tonight-you _die_. That's it._ Kaput._ In this lifetime you're nothing more than you appear to be: a stupid, selfish, ignorant, spoiled little girl who thinks the world lives or dies on whether she gets to go out with some good-looking boy at school. Even if you death wouldn't accomplish something so long-awaited, glorious, and grand, I'd still relish this moment, killing you."

Katniss watched Miss Trinket as she raised the kinfe and touched her finger to the blade.

Katniss' mind reeled. All day, there had been so much she needed to process, so many people telling her so many different things. Now the dagger was poised over her heart and her eyes grew fuzzy once again. She felt the pressure of the blade's point against her chest, felt Miss Trinket probing along her breatbone for the space between her ribs, and she though there was some truth in Miss Trinket's ribs, and she thought there was some truth in Miss Trinket's maddening speech. To place so much hope in the power of true love-which she felt she was only barely beginning to glimpse herself-_was_ it naive? After all, true love couldn't win that battle outside. It might not even be able to save her from dying on this altar.

But it had to. Her heart still beat for Peeta-and until that changed, something deep inside Katniss believed in that love, in its power to turn her into a better version of herself, to turn her and Peeta into something glorious and good-

Katniss cired out when the dagger pricked her skin-then in shock as the stained-glass window overhead seemed to shatter and the air around her filled with light and noise.

A hollow, gorgeous hum. A blinding brightness.

So she had died.

The dagger had gone deeper than it had felt. Katniss was moving on to the next place. How else to explain the glowing, opalscent shapes hovering over her, descending from the sky, the cascade of twinkles, the heavenly glow? It was hard to see anything clearly in the warm silver light. Gliding over her skin, it felt like the softest velvet, like meringue frosting on a cake. The ropes binding her arms and legs were loosened, then released, and her body-or maybe this was her soul-was free to float up into the sky.

But then she heard Miss Trinket bleating, "Not yet! It's happening too soon!" The old woman had torn the dagger away from Katniss' chest.

Katniss blinked rapidly. Her wrists. Untied. Her ankles. Free. Tiny shards of blue and red and green and gold stained glass all over her skin, the altar, and the floor beneath it. They stung as she brushed them away, leaving thin trails of blood on her arms. She squinted up toward the gaping hole in the ceiling.

Not dead, then, but saved. By angels.

Peeta had come for her.

Where was he? She could barely see. She wanted to wade through the light until her fingers found him, and closed around the back of his neck, and never, never, never let him go.

There was just the living opalescent shapes drifting toward and around Katniss' body, like a roomful of glowing feathers. They flocked to her, tending to her body in the places where the shattered glass had cut her. Swaths of gauzy light that seemed to somehow wash away the blood on her arms, and on the small gash on her cheek, until she was fully restored.

Miss Trinket had run to the far wall and was pawing frantically at the bricks, trying to find the secret door. Katniss wanted to stop her-to make her answer for what she'd done, and what she'd almost done-but then part of the sliver twinkling light took on the faintest violet hue and began to form the outline of a figure.

A bright pulsing shook the room. A light so glorious it could have outshone the sun made the walls rumble and the candles rock and flicker in their tall bronze holders. The eerie tapestries flapped against the stone wall. Miss Trinket cowered, but the shuddering glow felt like a deep massage, down to Katniss' very bones. And when the light condensed, spreading warmth across the room, it settled into the form Katniss recognized and adored.

Peeta stood before her, in front of the altar. He was shirtless, barefoot, clad only in white linen pants. He smiled at her, then closed his eyes and spread his arms out at his sides. Then, gingerly and very slowly, as if not to shock her, he exhaled deeply and his wings began to unfurl.

They came gradually, strating at the base of his shoulders, two white shoots extending from his back, growing hight, wider, thicker as they spread back and up and out. Katniss eyed the scalloped edges, yearning to trace them with her hands, her cheeks, her lips. The inside of his wings began to glow with velvet iridescence. Just like in her dream. Only now, when it was finally coming true, she could look at his wings for the first time without feeling woozy, without straining her eyes. She could take in all of Peeta's glory.

He was still glowing, as if lit from within. She could still clearly see his violet-blue eyes and his full mouth. His strong hands and broad shoulders. She could reach out and fold herself into her love's light.

He reached for her. Katniss closed her eyes at his touch, expecting something too otherwordly for her human body to withstand. But no. It was simply, reassuginly Peeta.

She reached around his back to finger his wings. She reached for them nervously, as if they could burn her, but they flowed around her fingers, softer than the smoothest velvet, the plushest rug. The way she'd like to imagine that a fluffy, sun-drenched cloud would feel if she could cup it in her hands.

"You're so . . . _beautiful_," she whispered into his chest. "I mean, you've always been beautiful, but this-"

"Does it scare you?" he whispered. "Does it hurt to look?"

She shook her head. "I thought it might," she said, thinking back to her dreams. "But it hurts not to."

He sighed, relieved. "I want you to feel safe with me."

The glittering around them fell like confetti, and Peeta pulled her to him. "It's a lot for you to take in."

She bent her head back and parted her lips, eager to do just that.

The loud slam of a door interuppted them. Miss Trinket had found the stairs. Peeta have a slight nod and a blazing figure of light darted through the secret door after the woman.

"What was that?" Katniss asked, gaping at the trail of light fast fading through the open door.

"A helper." Peeta guided her chin back.

And then, even though Peeta was with her and she felt loved and protected and saved, she also felt a sharp stab of uncertainty, remembering those dark things that had just happened, and Gale and his thundering black minions. There were still so many things unanswerable questions running through her mind, so many awful events she felt she'd never understand. Like Rue's death, poor sweet innocent Rue, her violet, senseless end. It overwhelmed Katniss, and her lip began to quiver.

"Rue's gone, Peeta," she said. "Miss Trinket killed her. And for a moment, I thought she'd killed me, too."

"I would never let that happen."

"How did you know to find me here? How do you always know how to save me?" She shook her head. "Oh my God," she whispered slowly as the thruth slammed into her. "You're my guardian angel."

Peeta chuckled. "Not exactly. Though I think you were giving me a compliment."

Katniss blushed. "Then what kind of angel are you?"

"I'm sort of in between gigs right now," Peeta said.

Behind him, the remaining silver light in the room pooled and split in half. Katniss turned to watch her, her herat thumping, as the glow finally gathered, as it had around Peeta's figure, around two distinct shapes.

Johanna and Delly.

Delly's wings were already unfurled. They were broad and plush and three times the size of her body. Feathery, with softly scalloped edges, the way angels' wings looked on greeting cards and in movies, and with just a hint of the palest pink around the tips. Katniss noticed them beating very lightly-and that Delly's feet were inches off the ground.

Johanna's wings were smoother, sleeker, and with more pronounced edges, almost like a giant butterfly's. Partially translucent, they glowed and cast shifting opalescent prisms of light on the stone floor beneath them. Like Johanna herself, they were strange and alluring, and totally badass.

"I should have known," Katniss said, a smile sweeping across her face.

Delly smiled back, and Johanna gave Katniss a little curtsy.

"What's going on out there?" Peeta asked, registering the worried expression on Delly's face.

"We need to get Katniss out of here."

The battle. Was it not over yet? If Peeta and Delly and Johanna were all here, they must have won-right? Katniss' eyes flashed to Peeta's. His expression gave nothing away.

"And someone needs to go after Trinket," Johanna said. "She could not have been working alone."

Katniss swallowed. "Is she on Gale's side? Is she some kind of . . . devil? A fallen angel?" It was one of the few terms that had stuck with her from Miss Trinket's lecture.

Peeta's teeth were clenched. Even his wings looked stiff with fury. "No devil," he muttered, "but hardly an angel either. We thought she was with us. We should never had let her get this close."

"She was one of the twenty-four elders," Delly added. She lowered her feet to the ground and tucked her pale pink wings behind her back so she could sit down on the altar. "A very respectable position. She kept this part of her well hidden."

"As soon as she got up here, it was like she just went crazy," Katniss said. She rubbed her neck where the dagger had nicked her.

"They _are_ crazy," Delly said. "But very ambitious. She's part of a secret sect. I should have realized it sooner, but the signs are very clear now. They call themselves the Zhsmaelim. They dress alike, and all have a certain . . . elegance. I always thought they were more show than anything else. No one took them too seriously in Heaven," she informed Katniss, "but they will now. What she did tonight was grounds for exile. She might be seeing more of Gale and Glimmer than she bargained for."

"So, Glimmer's a fallen angel, too," Katniss said slowly. Out of everything she'd learn today, this made the most sense.

"Katniss, we're _all_ fallen angels," Peeta said. "It's just that some of us are one side . . and some of us are on the other."

"Is anyone else on"-she swallowed-"the other side?"

"Finnick," Delly said.

"Finnick?" Katniss was stunned. "But you were friends with him. He was always so charismatic and great."

Peeta only shrugged. It was Johanna who looked concerned. Her wings beat in a sad, agitated way and sent forth a brush of dusty wind. "We'll get him back someday," she said quietly.

"What about Rue?" Katniss asked, feeling a knot of tears in the back of her throat.

But Peeta shook his head, squeezing her hand. "Rue was mortal. An innocent victim in a long, pointless war. I'm so sorry, Katniss."

"So that whole fight out there . . . ?" Katniss asked. Her voice choked. She couldn't bring herself to really talk about Rue yet.

"Just one of the many battles we wage against the demons," Delly said.

"Well, who won?"

"Nobody," Peeta said bitterly. He picked up a large shard from the stained-glass ceiling and flung it across the chapel. It shattered into a hundred tiny fragments but it didn't seem to have released any of his anger. "Nobody ever wins. It's close to impossible for one angel to extinguish another. It's just a lot of beating until everyone gets tired and calls it a night."

Katniss jolted when a strange image flashed into her mind. It was Peeta being struck directly on the should by one of the long black bolts that had hit Rue. She opened her eyes and looked at his right shoulder. There was blood on his chest.

"You're hurt," she whispered.

"No," Peeta said.

"He can't get hurt, he's-"

"What is that on your arm, Peeta?" Johanna asked, pointing at his chest. "Is that blood?"

"It's Rue's," Peeta said brusquely. "I found her at the foot of the stairs."

Katniss' heart constricted. "We need to bury Rue," she said. "Next to her father."

"Katniss, honey," Delly said, standing up. "I wish there were time for that, but right now, we've got to go."

"I won't abdandon her. She doesn't have anyone else."

"Katniss," Peeta said, rubbing his forehead.

"She died in my arms, Peeta. Because I didn't know any better than to follow Miss Trinket to this torture chamber." Katniss looked at all three of them. "Because none of you told me anything."

"Okay," Peeta said. "We'll make things as right for Rue as we can. But then we need to get you far away from here."

A gust of wind filtered down from the gash in the ceiling, causing the candles to flicker and making the remaning shards of glass in the broken window sway. In the next moment, they fell in a rain of sharp splinters.

Just in time, Delly glided off the altar and came to stand Katniss' side. She seemed unfazed. "Peeta's right," she said. "The truce we called after the battle applies only to angels. And now that so many know about the"-she paused, clearing her throat-"um, _chang_e in your mortality status, there are a lot of bad ones out there who'll be interested in you."

Johanna's wings lifted her off the ground. "And a lot of good ones who will out to help fend them off," she said, gliding toward Katniss' other side as if to reassure her.

"I still don't get it," Katniss said. "Why does it matter so much? Why do _I_ matter so much? Is it just because Peeta loves me?"

Peeta sighed. "That's part of it, as innocent as if sounds."

"You know everyone loves to hate a happy pair of lovebirds," Johanna chimed in.

"Honey, this is a very long story," Delly told her, the voice of reason.

"We can only give it to you a chapter at a time."

"And like with my wings," Peeta added, "you'll have to awaken to a lot of it on your own."

"But why?" Katniss asked. This conversation was so frustrating. She felt like a child being told she would get it when she older. "Why can't you just help we understand?"

"We _can_ help," Johanna said, "but we can't unload everything on you at once. Like how you're never supposed to shock a sleepwalker into wakefullness. It's too dangerous."

Katniss wrapped her arms around herself. "It would kill me," she said, offering up the words the rest of them were circumventing.

Peeta put his arms around her. "It has before. And you've had enough close encounters with death for one night."

"So what? Now I just have to leave school?" She turned to Peeta. "Where will you take me?"

His brow furrowed, and looked away from her. "I can't take anywhere. It would draw too much attention. We're going to have to rely on someone else. There's one mortal here we can trust." He looked at Johanna.

"I'll get him," she said, rising.

"I won't leave you," Katniss said to Peeta. Her lip quivered. "I've only just gotten you back."

Peeta kissed her forehead, igniting a warmth that spread through her body. "Luckily, we still have a little time."

_**A/N: Well, I don't know about you, but I am in love with the idea of angel Peeta ^_^**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	21. DayBreak

_**A/N: Nearing the end guys! I can't believe it! Since we're reaching the end (there's literally only this chapter and an epilogue) would you all like me to continue writing and do this for the next book? And the rest of the series? Let me know! ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

**Chapter Twenty **

**DayBreak**

Dawn. The break of the last day Katniss would see at Capitol Cross for-well, she didn't know how long. A single wild dove's coo rang out in the saffron sky as she stepped through the gym's kudzu-swated doors. Slowly, she set of toward the cemetery, hand in hand with Peeta. They were quiet as they walked across the still grass of the commons.

Just before they'd left the chapel, one at a time, the others had retracted their wings. It was sombering laborious process that left them lethargic once they were back in human form. Watching the transformation, Katniss couldn't beileve how the massive, brilliant wings could turn so small and feeble, finally vanishing into the angel's skin.

When it was over, she'd run her hand over Peeta's bare back. For the first time, he seemed modest, sensitive to her touch. But his skin was as smooth and unblemished as a baby's. And in his face, all of their faces, Katniss could still see the silver light manifested inside them, shining in all directions.

In the end, they'd carried Rue's body back up the steep stone stairs to the chapel, wiped the altar clean of glass, and laid her body there. There was no way they could bury her body there. There was no way they could bury her this morning-not with the cemetery teeming with mortals, as Peeta promised it would be.

It was anonizing for Katniss to accept that she would have to settle for whispering a few last words to her friend inside the chapel. All she could to say was "You're with your father now. I know he's happy to have you back."

Peeta would bury Rue properly as soon as the school calmed down-and Katniss would show him where Rue's father's grave was so Rue could be laid to rest at his side. It was the very least she could do.

Her heart was heavy as they crossed campus. Her jeans and tank top felt stretched out and dingy. Her fingernails needed a good scrub, and she was glad that there were no mirrors around so she could see what was up with her hair. She wished so much that she could take back the dark half of the night-could have saved Rue, most of all-while keeping the beautiful parts. The clinmactric thrill of piecing Peeta's true identity together. The moment he appeared before her in all his glory. Witnessing Johanna and Delly growing their wings. So much of it had been so lovely.

So much of it had resulted in utter, bleak destruction.

She could feel it in the atmosphere, like an epicdemic. She could read it on the faces of the many students roaming the commons. It was too early for any of them to be awake of their own accord, which meant they must all have heard or seen or felt some of the battle that had taken place last night. What would they know? Would anyone be looking for Rue yet? For Miss Trinket? What could any of them possibly think had happened? Everyone was paired up and speaking in hushed whispers. Katniss longed to linger close to them and eavesdrop.

"Don't worry." Peeta squeezed her hand. "Just imitate any of the baffled looks on their faces. No one will give us a second thought."

Though Katniss felt entirely conspicuous, he was right. None of the other students' eyes lingered on the two of them longer than they did on anyone else.

At the gates of the cemetery, blue and white police lights flashed, reflecting in the leaves of the oak trees overhead. The entrance had been marked off with yellow hazard tape.

Katniss saw Alma's back silhouette outlined against the sunrise ahead of them. She was pacing before the cemetery's entrance and shouting into a Bluetooth clipped to the collar of her shapeless polo shirt.

"I think you _should_ wake him up," she yelled into the device. "There's been an incident at the school. I keep telling you . . . I don't _know._"

"I should warn you," Peeta told her as he steered her away from Alma and the blinking lights of the cop cars, through the oak grove that bordered the cemetery on three sides. "It will look strange to you down there. Gale's syle of warfare is messier than ours. It's not gory, it's just . . . different."

Katniss didn't think much could alarm her at this point. A few toppled statues certainly weren't going to set her off. They picked their way through the forest, brittle fall leaves crunching beneath their feet. Katniss thought about the thundering locust-shadow cloud. There was no trace of them now.

Soon, Peeta gestured to a badly bent segment of the cemetery's wrought iron fence.

"We can enter there without being seen. We'll have to be quick about it."

Stepping out from the shelter of the trees, Katniss slowly understood what Peeta meant about the cemetery looking different. They stood at the rim, not far from Rue's father's grave at the east corner, but it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. The air above the grounds was so murky it might not even have qualified as air. It was thick and grey and gritty, and Katniss had to fan her hands through it just to see in front of her face.

She rubbed her fingers together. "Is this-"

"Dust," Peeta said, taking her hand as they walked. He was able to see through it, didn't have to choke and cough it out of his lungs as Katniss did. "In war, angels don't die. But their battles leave this thick carpet of dust in their wake."

"What happens to it?"

"Not much, besides the face that it baffles mortals. It will settle eventually, and then they'll come out to study it by the carload. There's a crazy scientist in Pasadena who thinks it comes from UFOs."

Katniss thought with a shudder about the unidentifiable flying black cloud of insectlike objects. That scientist might not be too far off.

"Rue's father was buried up here," she said, pointing as they neared his corner of the graveyard. As eerie as the dust was, she was relieved that the graves, statues, and trees within the cemetery all seemed to have been left standing. She got down on her knees and wiped away the pelt of dust from the grave she thought belonged to Rue's father. Her shaking fingers brushed clean the letters that nearly made her weep.

STANFORD LOCKWOOD

WORLD'S BEST FATHER

The space beside Mr. Lockwood's grave was bare. Katniss stood up and stamped her foot woeflly on the ground, hating that her friend would join him there. Hating that she couldn't even be present to give Rue a proper memorial.

People always talked about Heaven when someone died, how they were certain the deceased were there. Katniss never felt like she'd known the rules, and now felt even less qualified to speak about what might or night be.

She turned to Peeta, tears in her eyes. His face fell at the sight of her sorrow. "I'll take care of her, Katniss," he said. "I know it's not the way you wanted, but we'll do the best we can."

The tears came harder. Katniss was sniffling and sobbing and wanting Rue back so badly she thought she might collapse. "I can't leave her, Peeta. How can I?"

Peeta gently wiped her tears with the back of his hand. "What happened to Rue is terrible. A huge mistake. But when you walk away today, you won't be leaving her." He laid a hand over Katniss' heart. "She's with you."

"Still, I can't-"

"You can, Katniss." His voice was firm. "Believe me. You have no idea how many strong and impossible things you are capable of." He looked away from her, out at the trees. "If there's any good left in this world, you'll know soon."

A single blip of a police's car made both of them jump. A car door slammed, and not far from where they stood, they heard the crunch of boots on gravel. "What in the hell-Ronnie, call the central office. Tell the sheriff to get down here."

"Let's go," Peeta said, reaching for her hand. She slid it into his, giving the crest of Mr. Lockwood's headstone a somber pat, then started moving with Peeta back through the graves near the eastern side of the wrough iron fence, then quickly ducked back into the grove of the oak trees.

A cold wall of air slammed into Katniss as they walked. In the brances ahead of them, she saw three small but seething shadows hanging upside down like bats.

"Hurry," Peeta commanded. As they passed, the shadows reared back, hissing, somehow knowing not to mess with Katniss when Peeta was at her side.

"Now where?" Katniss asked at the edge of the oak tree.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She did. Peeta's arms circled her waist from behind and she felt his strong chest press into her shoulders. He was lifting her off the ground. A foot maybe, then higher, untilt he soft leaves of the treetops skimmed her shoulders, tickling her neck as Peeta pushed through them. Higher still, until she could feel the two of them burst free of the woods and into the bright morning sun. She was tempted to open her eyes-yet she sensed intutively that it would be too much. She wasn't sure that she was ready. And besides, the feeling of the clean air on her face and the rushing wind in her hair was enough. More than enough. Celestial. Like the feeling she'd had when she'd been rescued from the library, like riding a wave on the ocean. She knew for certain that Peeta had been behind that, too.

"You can open your eyes," he said quietly. Katniss felt the ground under her feet again and saw they were at the only place she wanted to be. Under the magnolia tree near the lake's edge.

Peeta held her close. "I wanted to bring you here because this is one place-one of many places-where I've really wanted to kiss you these past few weeks. I almost lost it that day you dove right into the water."

Katniss stood on her toes, tilting her head back to kiss Peeta. She had wanted to kiss him badly that day, too-and now she _needed_ to kiss him. His kiss was the only thing that felt right, the only thing that comforted her, and reminded her that there was a reason to go on, even when Rue couldn't. The tender pressure of his lips soothed her, like a warm drink in the dead of winter, when every part of her felt so cold.

Too soon, he pulled back, looking down at her with the saddest eyes.

"There's another reason I brought you here. This rock leads to the path we'll need to take to move you somewhere safe."

Katniss lowered her eyes. "Oh."

"This isn't goodbye for good, Katniss. I hope it's not even goodbye for long. We'll just have to see how things . . . develop." He smoothed her hair. "Please don't worry. I will always come for you. I won't let you go until you understand that."

"Then I refuse to understand," she said.

Peeta laughed under his breath. "See that clearing over there?" He pointed across the lake about half a mile away where a small pocket of forest opened up to a flat, grassy knoll. Katniss had never noticed it before, but now she saw a small white plane with red lights on its wings blinking in the distance.

"That's for me?" she asked. After all that had happened, the sight of an airplance barely fazed her. "Where am I going?"

She couldn't believe she was leaving a place she'd hated but where she'd had so many intense experiences over a few short weeks. What was Capitol Cross going to be anymore?

"What's going to happen to this place? And what am I going to tell my parents?"

"For now, try not to worry. As soon as you're safe, we'll tackle everything else we need to. Mr. Abernathy can call your parents."

"Mr. Abernathy?"

"He's on our side, Katniss. You can trust him."

But she had trusted Miss Trinket. She hardly knew Mr. Abernathy. She was supposed to leave Peeta and get on a plane with her history teacher? Her head throbbed.

"There's a path that follows the water," Peeta continued. "We can pick it up down there." He curved his arm around the small of her back. "Or," he proposed, "we could swim."

Holding hands, they stood at the edge of the red rock. They'd left their shoes under the magnoila tree, but this time, there'd be no going back. Katniss didn't think it would feel so great to dive into the cold lake in her jeans and a tank top, but with Peeta smiling next to her, everything she did felt like the only thing there was to do.

They raised their arms overhead and Peeta counted to three. Their feet lifted off the ground at exactly the same time, their bodies arched in the air in exactly the same shape, but instead of going down, as Katniss instrinctively expected, Peeta pulled her higher, using only the tips of his fingers.

They were flying. Katniss was hand in hand with an angel and she was flying. The crests of the trees seemed to bow to them. Her body felt lighter than air. The early morning moon was still visible just over the tree line. It dipped nearer, as if Peeta and Katniss were the tide. The water lapped below them, silver and inviting.

"Are you ready?" Peeta asked.

"I'm ready."

Katniss and Peeta drifted toward the deep, cool lake. They broke the surface first, the longest swan dive anyone had ever pulled off. Katniss gasped at the cold as they surface, then started laughing.

Peeta's hand took hers again, and he motioned for her to join him on the rock. He pulled himself up first then reached down and lifted her. The moss made a fine, soft carpet for the two of them to spread out on. Water droplets clung to his chest. They lay down on their sides, facing each other, propping themselves up on their elbows.

Peeta put his hand on the hollow of her hip. "Mr. Abernathy will be waiting when we reach the plane," he said. "This is our last chance to be alone. I thought we might say our real goodbye here.

"I'm going to give you something," he added, reading into his pocket and pulling out the silver medallion she'd seen him wear around school. He pressed the chain into Katniss' open palm and she realized it was a locket, a rose engraved on its face. "It used to belong to you," he said. "A very long time ago."

Katniss clicked the locket to find a tiny photgraph inside, behind a glass plate. It was a picture of the two of them, looking not at the camera, but deep into each other's eyes, and laughing. Katniss' hair was short, as it was now, and Peeta was wearing a bow tie.

"When was this taken?" she asked, holding up the locket. "Where are we?"

"I'll tell you next time I see you," he said. He lifted the chain over her head and placed it around her neck. When the locket touched her collarbone, she could feel a deep heat pulsing through it, warming her cold, wet skin.

"I love it," she whispered, touching the chain.

"I know Gale gave you that gold necklace, too," Peeta said.

Katniss hadn't thought about that since Gale had forced it onto her at the bar. She couldn't believe that was only yesterday. The thought of wearing it made her feel sick. She didn't even know where the necklace was-and she didn't want to.

"He put it on me," she said, feeling guilty. "I didn't-"

"I know," Peeta said. "Whatever happened between you and Gale, it wasn't your fault. Somehow he held on to a lot of his angelic charm when he fell. It's deceptive."

"I hope I never see him again," she shuddered.

"I'm afraid you might. And there are more like Gale out there. You'll just have to trust your gut," Peeta said. "I don't know how long it will take to catch you up on everything that's happened in our past. But in the meantime, if you feel an instinct, even about something you think you don't know, you should trust it. You'll probably be right."

"So trust myself even when I can't trust those around me?" she asked, feeling like this was what Peeta meant.

"I'll try to be there to help you, and I'll send word as much as I can when I'm away," Peeta said. "Katniss, you possess your past lives' memories . . . even if you can't unlock them yet. If something feels wrong to you, you stay away."

"Where are you going?"

Peeta looked up at the sky. "To find Gale," he said. "We have a few more things to take care of."

The moroseness in his voice made Katniss nervous. She thought back to the thick felt of dust Gale had left in the cemetery.

"But you'll come back to me," she said, "after that? Do you promise?"

"I-I can't live without you, Katniss. I love you. It matters not just to me, but . . ." He hesitated, then shook his head. "Don't worry about any of that now. Only know that I will come for you."

Slowly, reluctantly, the two of them stood up. The sun had just peeked over the trees, and it shimmered in the mishaped shards on the choopy water. There was a short distance to swim from here to the muddy bank that would lead them to the plane. Katniss wished it were miles away. She could have swum with Peeta until nightfall. And every sunrise and sunset after that.

They hopped back inot the water and started swimming. Katniss made sure to tuck the locket inside her tank top. If trusting her instinces was important, her instincts told her never to part with this necklace.

She watched, awestruck all over again, as Peeta began his slow, elegant stroke. This time, in the moonlight, she knew his iridescent wings she saw outlined in the drops of water were not figments of her imagination. They were real.

She brought up the rear, cutting through the water with stroke after stroke. Too soon, her fingers touched the shore. She hated that she could hear the hum of the plane's engine further up the clearing. They'd reached the place where they would have to part, and Peeta practically had to drag her out of the water. She'd gone from feeling damp and happy to dripping wet and freezing. They walked toward the plane, his hand on her back.

To Katniss' surprise, Mr. Abernathy was holding out a large white towel when he hopped down from the cockpit. "A little angel told me that you might need this sweetheart," he said, unfolding it for Katniss, who took it greatfully.

"Who are you calling little?" Johanna popped up from behind a tree, followed by Delly, who brought forward the Watchers book.

"We came to say _bon voyage,_" Delly said, handing the book to Katniss. "Take this," she said brightly, but her smile look more like a frown.

"Give her the good stuff," Johanna said, nudging Delly.

Delly pulled a thermos out of her backpack, handing it to Katniss. She lifted off the top. It was hot chocolate and it smelled incredible. Katniss nestled the book and the thermos in her towel-dried arms, feeling suddenly rich with possessions. But she knew as soon as she got on that plane that she'd feel empty and alone. She pressed against Peeta's shoulder, taking advantage of his nearness while she still could.

Delly's eyes were clear and strong. "We'll see you soon, okay?"

But Johanna's eyes darted away, as if she didn't want to look at Katniss. "Don't do anything stupid, like turning into a pile of ash." She shuffled her feet. "We need you."

"_You_ need_ me_?" Katniss asked. She'd needed Johanna to show her the ropes of Capitol Cross. She'd needed Delly that day in the infirmary. But why would they need her?

Both girls only answered with somber smiles before retreating into the forest. Katniss turned to Peeta, trying to forget that Mr. Abernathy was standing a few feet away. "I'll give you two a moment alone," Mr. Abernathy said, taking the hint. "Katniss, from the time I start the engine, it's three minutes to takeoff. I'll meet you in the cockpit.

Peeta swept her up and pressed his forehead to hers. As their lips connected, Katniss tried to hold every part of this moment. She would need the memory the way she needed air.

Because what if, when Peeta left her, the whole thing started to feel like just another dream? A partially nightmarish dream, but a dream nonetheless. How could it be that she felt what she thought she felt for someone who wasn't even human?

"This is it," Peeta said. "Be careful. Let Mr. Abernathy guide you until I come." A shrill whistle from the plane-Mr. Abernathy telling them to wrap it up. "Try to remember what I said."

"Which part?" Katniss asked, slightly panicked.

"As much as you can-but mostly, I love you."

Katniss sniffed. Her voice would break if she tried to say a thing. It was time to go.

She jogged toward the open door of the cockpit, feeling the hot blasts from the propellers almost knock her down. There was a three-step ladder, and Mr. Abernathy reached out his hand to help her up. He pressed a button and the ladder withdrew into the plane. The door closed. She looked at the complicated dashboard. She had never been in such a small plane. Never been in a cockpit at all. There were flashing lights and buttons everywhere. She looked at Mr. Abernathy.

"You know how to fly this thing?" she asked, wiping her eyes on the towel.

"U.S Air Force, Fifty-ninth Divison, at your service," he said gruffly. "My wife always tells people not to get me started on my flying days in Nam," he said, easing back on a wide sliver gearshift. The plane shuddered into motion. "But we've got a long flight, and I've got a captivated audience."

"You mean a captive audience," she let slip out.

"Good one," Mr. Abernathy said dryly. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't subject you to that."

The wheels were rolling quickly now and the 'run way' before them looked short. They would need to lift off pretty soon or they'd end up flying straight into the lake.

"I know what you're thinking," he shouted over the roar of the engine. "Don't worry, I do this all the time!"

And just before the muddy bank below ended, he pulled hard on the lever between them, and the nose of the plane tilted up toward the sky. The horizon dropped out of view for a moment and Katniss' stomach lurched along with it. But a moment later, the plane's motion settled down, and the view before them flattened out to just trees and a clear, starlit sky. Below them was the twinkling lake. Every second, it grew more distant. They had taken off to the west, but the plane was making a circle, and soon Katniss' window was filled with the forest she and Peeta had just flown through. She gazed into it, pressing her face to the window to look for him, and before the plane straightened out again, she thought she saw the smallest flash of violet. She gripped the locket around her neck and brought it to her lips.

Now the rest of campus was beneath them, and the foggy cemetery just beyond it. The place where Rue would soon be buried. The higher they went, the more Katniss could see of the school where her biggest secret had come out-though so differently than she could have imagined it would.

"They really did a number on that place," Mr. Abernathy muttered.

Katniss had no idea how much he knew about the events that took place last night. He seemed so normal, and yet he was taking all of this in stride.

"Where are we going?"

"A little island off the coast," he said, pointing out the distance toward the sea, where the horizon faded into black. "It's not too far."

"Mr. Abernathy," she said, "you've met my parents."

"Nice people."

"Will I be able to . . . I'd like to speak with them."

"Of course. We'll figure out something."

"They could never believe any of this."

"Could you?" he asked.

That was the thing. She _had_ to believe it, all of it-from the first dark flicker of the shadows, to the moemtn when Peeta's lips found hers, to Rue lying dead on the marble altar of the chapel. It all had to be real.

How else could she hold out until she saw Peeta again? She gripped the locket around her neck, which held a liftime of memories. Her memories, Peeta had reminded her, hers to unlock.

What they held, she didn't know, any more than she knew where Mr. Abernathy was taking her. But she'd felt like a part of _something_ in the chapel this morning, standing next to Johanna and Delly and Peeta. Not lost and afraid and complacent . . . but like she might matter, not just to Peeta-but to all of them.

She looked thought the windshield. They would have passed the salt marshes by now, and the road she'd driven on to get to that awful bar to meet Gale, and the long stretch of sandy beach where she'd first kissed Peeta. They were out over the open sea, which-somewhere out there-held Katniss' next distination.

No one had come right out and told her that there were more battles to be fought, but Katniss felt the truth inside her, that they were at the start of something long and significant and hard.

Together.

And whether the battles were gruesome or redemptive or both, Katniss didn't want to be a pawn any longer. A strange feeling was working its way through her body-one steeped in all her past lives, all the love she'd felt for Peeta that had been extinguished too many times before.

It made Katniss want to stand up next to him and fight. Fight to stay alive long enough to live out her life next to him. Fight for the only thing she knew was good enough, the noble enough, poweful enough to be worth risking everything.

Love.

_**A/N: Don't forget to let me know if you want me to do the rest of the series ;)**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	22. Two Great Lights

_**A/N: I know guys but I couldn't wait and posted again! I suck at suspense! ^_^**_

_**To the guest reviewer: I was forced to delete your comment because you'd basically said what the ending of the last book (which I hadn't finished yet thank you very much!) was and I didn't want it to be ruined for my reviewers even though it's now ruined for me. I did put at the end of the prologue that this was a complete rendition of Lauren Kate's work so it was on your own head if you read it looking for something different from what she'd written.**_

_**Disclaimer: All rights belong to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins**_

**Epilogue: Two Great Lights**

All night long he watched her sleeping fitfully on the narrow canvas cot. A single army-green lantern hanging from one of the low wooden beams in the log cabin luminated her frame. Its soft glow higlighted her black hair splayed out on the pillow, her cheeks smooth and rosy from her bath.

Every time the sea roared up against the desolate beach outside, she tossed onto her side. Her tank top hugged her body so that when the thin blanket bunched up around her, he could just make out the tiny dimple marking her soft left shoulder. He had kissed it so many times before.

By turns she sighed in her sleep, then breathed evenly, then moaned from someplace deep inside a dream. But whether it was in pleasure or pain, he couldn't tell. Twice, she called out his name.

Peeta wanted to float down to her. To leave his perch atop the sandy old boxes of ammunition high in the raftered loft of the beachfront cabin. But she could not know he was there. She could not know he was anywhere nearby. Or what the next few days would bring for her.

Behind him, in the salt-stained storm window, he glimpsed a passing shadow from the corner of his eye. Then the faintest tapping on the glass pane. Wrestling his eyes from her body, he moved toward the window, released the lock. A torrent of rain poured down outside, reuniting with the sea. A black cloud hid the moon and shone up on the face of his visitor.

"May I come in?"

Gale was late.

Though Gale possessed the power to have simply appeared out of thin air at Peeta's side, Peeta pushed open the window further to allow him to climb through. So much was pomp and circumstance these days. It was important for them both to be clear that Peeta had welcomed Gale in.

Gale's face was still cast in shadow, but he showed no sign of having traveled thousands of miles in the rain. His dark hair and skin were dry. His auric wings, compact and solid now, were the only part of him that gleamed. As if they were made of twenty-four-karat gold. Though he tucked them neatly behind him, when he sat down next to Peeta on a splintering wooden box, Gale's wings gravitated toward Peeta's iridescent silver ones. It was the natural state of things, an inexplicable reliance. Peeta couldn't inch away without giving up his unobscructed view of Katniss.

"She is so lovely when she sleeps," Gale said softly.

"Is that why you wanted her to sleep for all eternity?"

"_Me?_ Never. And_ I_ would have killed Trinket for what she attempted-not let her run free into the night as you did." Gale leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing of the loft. Down below, Katniss tightened the covers around her neck. "I just want her. You know why."

"Then I pity you. You will end up disappointed."

Gale held Peeta's eyes and rubbed his jaw, chuckling cruelly under his breath. "Oh, Peeta, your shortsightedness surprises me. You don't have her yet." He stoke another long glance at Katniss. "She may think you do. But we both know how very little she understands."

Peeta's wings pulled taut against his shoulder blades, but the tips were reaching forward. Closer to Gale's. He couldn't stop it.

"The truce lasts eighteen days," Gale said. "Though I have a feeling we may need each other before then."

Then he stood, shoving the box back with his feet. The scraping along the ceiling over her head made Katniss' eyes flicker, but both angels ducked back among the shadows before her gaze could settle anywhere.

They faced each other, each still weary from the battle, each knowing it was a mere taste of what was to come.

Slowly, Gale extended his right hand.

Peeta extended his.

And while Katniss dreamed below of the most glorious wings unfurling-the likes of which she'd never seen before-two angels in the rafters shooks hands.

**Can you bear the . . .**

**TORMENT**

**The sequel to Fallen By Lauren Kate, Rewritten by Cupcakesprinkles14, is coming**

**8th July 2013**

**To read an exculsive extract from TORMENT, check back on 1st July 2013 . . .**


	23. Sneak Peek of Torment

_**All rights go to Lauren Kate and Suzanne Collins.**_

_**Exclusive sneak peek of sequel Torment.**_

**Prologue: Netural Waters**

Peeta stared out at the bay. His eyes were as blue as sea on a summer day, and yet the land around him was enveloped in a thick fog that took over the entire Sausalito shoreline, as the choppy water lapping the pebble beach beneath his feet.

There was no violet to them; he could feel it. She was too far away.

He braced himself against the biting gale off the water. But even he tugged his thick black pea coat closer, he knew it was no use. Hunting always left him cold.

Only one thing could warm him today, and she was out of reach. He missed the way the crown of her head made the perfect ledge for his lips. He imagined filling the circle of his arms with her body, leaning down to kiss her neck. But it was a good thing Katniss couldn't be here now. What she'd see would horrify her.

Behind him, the bleat of sea lions flopping in heaps along the south shore of Angel Island sounded the way he felt: jaggedly lonely, with no one around to hear.

No one except Gale.

He was crouched in front of Peeta, tying a rsty anchor around the bulging wet figure at thei feet. Even engaged in something so sinister, Gale looked good. His grey eyes had a sparkle to and his dark hair was cut short. It was the truce; it always brought a brighter glow to the angels' cheeks, a shinier sheen to the hair, an even sharper cut to their flawless muscled bodies. Truce days were to angels what a beach vacation was to humans.

So even though Peeta ached inside each time he was forced to end a human life, to anyone else he looked like a guy coming back from a week in Hawaii: relaxed and rested.

Tightening one of his intricate knots, Gale said, "Typical Peeta. Always stepping aside and leaving me to do the dirty work."

"What are you talking about? I'm the one who finished him." Peeta looked down at the dead man, at the wiry grey hair matted to his pasty forehead, at his gnarled hands and cheap rubber galoshes, at the dark red tear across his chest. It made Peeta feel cold all over again. If killing weren't necessary to ensure Katniss' safety, to save her, Peeta would never raise another weapon. Never fight another fight.

And something about killing this man did not feel quite right. In fact, Peeta had a vague, troubling sense that something was profoundly wrong.

"Finishing them is the fun part." Gale looped the rope around the man's chest and tightened it under his arms. "The dirty work is seeing them off to sea."

Peeta still gripped the bloodied tree branch in his hand. Gale had snickered at the choice, but it never mattered to Peeta what he used. He could kill with anything.

"Hurry up," he growled, sickened by the obvious pleasure Gale took in human bloodshed. "You're wasting time. The tide's going out."

"And unless we do this my way, high tide tomorrow will was Slayer here right back ashore. You're too implusive, Peeta, always were. Do you ever think more than one step ahead?"

Peeta crossed his arms and looked back out at the white crests of the waves. A tourist catamaran from the San Francisco pier was gliding toward them. Once, the vision of that boat might have brough back a flood of memories. A thousand happy trips he'd taken with Katniss across a thousand lifetimes' seas. But now-now that shecould die and not come back, in this lifetime when everything was different and there would be no more reincarnations-Peeta was always too aware of how blank _her_ memory was. This was the last shot. For both of them. For everyone, really. So it was Katniss' memory, not Peeta's, that mattered, and so many shocking truths would have to be gently brought to the surface if she was going to surivive. The thought of what she had to learn made his whole body tense up.

If Gale thought Peeta wasn't thinking of the next step, he was wrong.

"You know there's only one reason I'm still here," Peeta said. "We need to talk about her."

Gale laughed. "I _was_." With a grunt, he hoisted the sopping corpse over his shoulder. The dead man's navy suit bunched up around the lines of rope Gale had tied. The heavy anchor rested on his bloody chest.

"This one's a little gristly, isn't he?" Gale asked. "I'm almost insulted that the Elders didn't send a more challenging hit man."

Then-as if he were an Olympic shot-putter-Gale bent his knees, spun around three times to wind up, and launched the dead man out across the water, a hundred feet clear into the air.

For a few long seconds, the corpse sailed over the bay. Then the weight of the anchor dragged it down . . . down . . . down. It splashed grandly into the deep aquamarine water. And instantly sank out of sight.

Gale wiped his hands. "I think I've just set a record."

The were alike in so many ways. But Gale was something worse, a demon, and that made him capable of despicable acts with no remorse. Peeta was crippled by remorse. And right now, he was further crippled by love.

"You take human death too lightly," Peeta said.

"This guy deserved it," Gale said. "You really don't see the sport in all this?"

That was when Peeta got in his face and spat, "She is not a game to me."

Peeta grabbed Gale by the collar of his steel-grey trench coat. He considered tossing him into the water the same way he'd just tossed the predator.

A cloud drifted past the sun, its shadow darkening their faces. "Easy," Gale said, prying Peeta's hands away. "You have plenty of enemies, Peeta, but right now I'm not one of them. Remember the truce."

"Some truce," Peeta said. "Eighteen days of others trying to kill her."

"Eighteen days of you and me picking them off," Gale corrected.

It was angelic tradition for a truce to last eighteen days. In Heaven, eighteen days was the luckiest, most divine number: a life-affirming tally of two sevens (the archangels and the cardinal virtues), balanced with the warning of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. In some mortal languages, eighteen had come to mean life itself-though in this case, for Katniss, it could just as easily mean death.

Gale was right. As the news of her mortality trickled down the celestial tiers, the ranks of her enemies would double and redouble each day. Miss Trinket and her cohorts, the Twenty-four Elders of Zhsmaelin, were still after Katniss. Peeta had glimpsed the Elders in the shadows cast by the Announcers just that morning. He had glimpsed something else too-another darkness, a deeper cunning, one he hadn't recognized at first.

A shaft of sinlight punctured theh clouds, and something gleamed in the corner of Peeta's vision. He turned and knelt down to find a single arrow planted in the wet sand. It was slimmer than a normal arrow, a dull silver colour, laced with swirling etched designs. It was warm to touch.

Peeta's breath caught in his throat. It had been eons since he'd seen a starshot. His fingers quaked as he gently drew it from the sand, careful to avoid its deadly blunt end.

Now Peeta knew where that other darkness had come from in this morning's Announcers. The news was even grimmer than he'd feared. He turned to Gale, the feather-light arrow balanced in his hands. "He wasn't acting alone."

Gale stiffened at the sight of the arrow. He moved toward it almost reverently, reaching out to touch it the same way Peeta had. "Such a valuable weapon to leave behind. The Outcast must have been in a great hurry to get away."

The Outcasts: a sect of spineless, waffling angels, shunned by both Heaven and Hell. Their one great strenght was the reclusive angel Azazel, the only remaning starsmith, who still knew the art of producing starshots. When loosed from its silver bow, a starshot could do little more than bruise a mortal. But to angels and demons, it was the deadliest weapon of all.

Everyone wanted them, but none of them were willing to associate with the Outcasts, so batering for starshots was always down clandestinely, via messenger. Which meant the guy Peeta had killed was no hit man sent by the Elders. He was merely a bartender. The Outcast, the real enemy, had sprited away-probably at the first sight of Peeta and Gale. Peeta shivered. This was not good news.

"We killed the wrong guy."

"What 'wrong'?" Gale brushed him off. "Isn't the world better off with one less predator? Isn't Katniss?" He stared at Peeta, then at the sea. "The only problem is-"

"The Outcasts."

Gale nodded. "So now they want her too."

Peeta could feel the tips of his wings bristling under his cashmere sweater and heavy coat, a burning itch that made him flinch. He stood still, with his eyes closed and his arms at his sides, strainging to subdue himself before his wings burst forth like the violently unfurling sails of a ship and carried him up and off this island and over the bay and away. Straight toward her.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture Katniss. He'd had to tear himself away from the cabin, from her peaceful sleep on the tiny island of Tybee. It would be evening there by now. Would she be awake? Would she be hungry?

The battle at Capitol Cross, the revelations, and the death of her friend-it had taken quite a toll on Katniss. The angels expected her to sleep all day and through the night. But by tomorrow morning, they would need to have a plan in place.

This was the first time Peeta had ever proposed a truce. To set the boundaries, make the rules, and draw up a system of consequences if either side transgressed-it was a huge responsibility to shoulder with Gale. Of course he would do it, he would do anything for her . . . he just wanted to make sure he did it _right._

"We have to hide her somewhere safe," he said. "There's a school up north, near Fort Bragg-"

"The Shoreline School," Gale nodded. "My side has looked into it as well. She'll be happy there. And educated in a way that won't endanger her. And, most importantly, she'll be shielded."

Delly had already explained to Peeta the type of camouflage Shoreline could provide. Soon enough, word would spread that Katniss was hidded away there, but for a time at least, within the school's perimeter, she would be nearly invisible. Inside, Portia, the angel closest to Delly, would look after Katniss. Outside, Peeta and Gale would hunt down and kill anyone who dared to draw near the school's boundaries.

Who would have told Gale about Shoreline? Peeta didn't like the idea of their side knowing more than his. He was already cursing himself for not visiting the school before they made his choice, but it had been hard enough to leave Katniss when he did.

"She cans tart as early as tomorrow. Assuming"-Gale's eyes ran over Peeta's face-"assuming you say yes."

Peeta pressed a hand to the breast pocket of his shirt, where he kept a recent photograph. Katniss on the lake at Capitol Cross. Wet hair shining. A rare grin on her face. Usually, by the time he had a chance to get a picture of her in one lifetime, he lost her again. This time, she was still here.

"Come on, Peeta," Gale was saying. "We both know what she needs. We enroll her-and then let her be. We can do nothing to hasten this part but leave her alone."

"I can't leave her alone that long." Peeta had tossed out the words too quickly. He looked down at the arrow in his hands, feeling ill. He wanted to fling it into the ocean, but he couldn't.

"So," Gale squinted. "You haven't told her."

Peeta froze. "I can't tell her anything. We could lose her."

"_You_ could lose her," Gale sneered.

"You know what I mean." Peeta stiffened. "It's too risky to assume she could take it all in without . . ."

He closed his eyes to banish the image of the agonizing red-hot blaze. But it was always burning at the back of his mind, threatening to spread like wildfire. If he told her the truth and killed her, this time she could _really_ be gone. And it would be his fault. Peeta couldn't do anything-he could not exist-without her. His wings burned at the thought. Better to shelter her just a little longer.

"How convenient for you," Gale muttered. "I just hope she isn't disappointed."

Peeta ignored him. "Do you really believe she'll be able to learn at this school?"

"I do," Gale answered slowly. "Assuming we agree she'll have no external distractions. That means no Peeta, and no Gale. That has to be the cardinal rule."

Not see her for eighteen days? Peeta couldn't fathom it. More than that, he couldn't fathom Katniss' ever agreeing to it. They had only just found each other in this lifetime and finally had a chance to be together. But, as usual, explaining the details could kill her. She couldn't hear about her past lives from the mouths of angels. Katniss didn't know it yet, but very soon, she would be on her own to figure out . . . everything.

The buried truth-speifically what Katniss would think of it-terrified Peeta. But Katniss' uncovering it by herself was the only way to break free from this horrible cycle. This was why her experience at Shoreline would be crucial. For eighteen days, Peeta could kill as many Outcasts as came his way. But when the truce was over, everything would be in Katniss' hands again. Katniss' hands alone.

The sun was setting over Mount Tamaplais and the evening fog was rolling in.

"Let me take her to Shoreline," Peeta said. It would be his last chance to see her.

Gale looked at him strangely, wondering whether to concede. A second time, Peeta had to physically force his aching wings back into his skin.

"Fine," Gale said at last. "In exchange for the starshot."

Peeta handed over the weapon, and Gale slipped it inside his coat. "Take her as far as the school and them fine me. Don't screw up. I'll be watching."

"And then?"

"You and I have hunting to do."

Peeta nodded and unfurled his wings, feeling the deep pleasure of their release all through his body. He stood for a moment, gathering energy, sensing the wing's rough resistance. Time to flee this cursed, ugly scene, to let his wings carry him back to a place where he could be his true self.

Back to Katniss.

And back to the lie he would have to live a little while longer.

"The truce begins at midnight tomorrow," Peeta called, kicking back a great spray of sand on the beach as he lifted off and soared across the sky.

_**Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed Fallen! **_

_**Lauren Kate's Torment, rewritten by Cupcakesprinkles14, shall be posted **_

_**8th July 2013.**_


	24. Important AN!

_**IMPORTANT A/N!**_

_**There's going to be a delay in posting Torment, so it won't be up today. I'm hoping I'll get it done either this week or next week. Sorry for the inconvience, there's been a lot of stuff happening at home recently and I just haven't had time.**_

_**I'd also like to draw to your attention that these stories aren't mine. I literally just add Hunger Games characters into Lauren Kate's novels, writing out her work word for word. I know I mentioned this at the start of Fallen, but I don't think I was clear enough. The point of writing these in the Hunger Games universe was to let people know about Lauren's work and her awesome books! **_

_**So, literally, these stories AREN'T my work. **_

_**I hope this doesn't dishearten you in reading and reviewing the stories.**_

_**I'd also like to say that the Fallen series s the only piece of work that I do copy, all of my other stories are my own words and ideas.**_

_**I hope to see you guys reading Torment!**_

_**~Cupcake**_


End file.
